


Guide to Getting Lost

by redstringraven (sirimiri)



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, Coming of Age, Family Bonding, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 137,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirimiri/pseuds/redstringraven
Summary: It was a soft love, like standing in sunlight. He could feel himself melting into it, lazy as he took it all in. He was lost in him. The kind of lost that's exactly like being found. And he didn't want to leave.





	1. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story takes place approximately 3 years after the end of season 5. the episode "things change" has been excluded from the narrative, making "titans together" the last event. thank you so much for clicking in, and i hope you enjoy!

The long grass hissed as yet another warm breeze swept through the field. He felt it bend against his arms and tickle the skin on his sides where the bottom of his shirt had left the flesh exposed. The breeze felt light against his bare feet, and he inhaled the scent of grass, wildflowers and distant ocean air. It left him feeling comforted as though the very environment was welcoming him back after a long, exhausting summer.

Gar waited another long moment before opening his eyes. Above him, the tips of the grass stretched to touch a bright blue sky, and fat, lazy clouds drifted through the air miles beyond their reach. His right ear twitched as yet another breeze rolled through, and the voice of the field rose again, whispering softly to the trees. A large bumblebee drifted into the open space above him. He watched it, silent and still as the clumsy little insect drifted down to land in the area between his eyes.

“Hey, tiny dude,” he muttered, letting his eyelids slide half-closed. The bee crawled up the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t help but smile a little, resisting the instinct to chuckle. “Sorry. I know I’m green, but I’m not a flower. Or grass. Or… any plant.”

He heard a faint buzz off to his right, but it hadn’t come from a bee. Slanting his gaze, he spotted the soft light emitting from his phone’s screen. A text message. Followed by a second one. He wiggled his nose, and the bee took to the air, hovering for only a moment before it ventured off in search of something more satisfying. Gar watched it go before pulling his arms out from behind his head and snatching his phone out of the grass. He rolled onto his side, sliding the screen unlocked.

> [rust bucket, 5:43pm]: hey man you in city yet?
> 
> [rust bucket, 5:43pm]: no rush just checkin in.
> 
> [alligartor, 5:44pm]: yep! just outside the city line or whatev. gotta make a stop then i'll be back.

He inhaled deeply, sitting himself up. The field was long and open, a few trees dotting the spaces just before the forest line started. From here he could see the single swing hanging from the furthest tree swaying slowly in the breeze, as though gently pushed by a ghost. Gar watched it, feeling the weighted tug of melancholy pull the ribs in his chest.

August had always had this haze to it. For most people, any sense of sadness seemed to come from summer’s departure... school creeping around the corner or a bit of seasonal depression as plants began to die, and birds left for the winter. He felt that, too. The emptiness of the air without birdsong and how barren, muted, the world felt after autumn’s colors had passed. Reaching the end of August was like entering the gateway to all that. And, for him, it clutched a tender area of his heart.

His phone buzzed in his hand, shaking him from the thought.

> [rust bucket, 5:46pm]: cool. see ya then. be ready for pizza.

Gar smiled, setting his phone aside and leaning to grab his shoes. He tugged them back on, grabbed his phone and rolled to his feet, taking a few seconds to stretch his arms and back. His backpack slumped where he’d left it, just a few feet from the spot he’d settled into maybe a half hour ago. He tucked his phone through the small opening on the side and zipped it shut, slinging the pack onto his back. Once he was sure the straps were loose enough not to restrain him he ducked, morphing into a small pterodactyl. The colors and shapes around him shifted, sharpening to a new vibrancy, and he pushed into the air with practiced ease.

It took a few minutes to reach the entrance to the caverns. Gar landed just at the mouth, shifting back and pausing only a moment to tighten the straps on his backpack again.

He’d walked these tunnels enough times not to need the full help of animal eyes. There were always a few times he’d trip---the tips of his shoes catching loose stone or a rise in the ground---but memory would guide him forward.

The caverns had an energy to them. He could feel it, but he couldn’t place it. Just that his chest would tighten and his mind grew more alert, aware every sound that echoed in the space around him. He sometimes wondered if the energy was… _her_ , somehow. Not quite a ghost and not entirely gone, either. It comforted him but, also, made the guilt that clung to his chest cling even tighter. It meant she was trapped down here in this lonely, makeshift tomb. A free spirit like her should never be trapped anywhere. It was agonizing… he knew that better than most people.

Gar slowed to a stop, blinking, so his eyes changed to an owl’s. Instantly, every available sliver of light came to his aid. He could see the uneven walls of the cavern and the path ahead, the change in color on the dirt floor to indicate there would be more natural light soon. He’d nearly reached the center room. Gar took a moment to breathe, sliding his pack off his shoulders and setting it on the ground in front of him. He unzipped it with a gentleness he hadn’t had before, peering inside. He could see the outlines of the couple of clothes he’d packed, the shape of his trusty hammock, the corner of his 3DS and the still intact bouquet of flowers. A few of the delicate blue petals had fallen off and sprinkled the other contents of the pack, but he was relieved to find that the bouquet had survived the trip here. He pulled them out with care, taking another small moment to examine them in full before absently slinging the pack back over his shoulder. He blinked twice, allowing his eyes to return to their previous state.

The caverns opened up into a larger space, where a few cracks and holes in the ‘ceiling’ provided thin rays of sunlight and slightly warmer air. She stood in the center, arms open and eyes tilted to skies she couldn't see. At the space between her feet was a large vase; the old flowers were wilted and blackened, their crumbling petals scattered beneath the weak stems. He felt his heart sink, a weight fall slowly onto his shoulders, but closed the distance to her.

“Hey, Tara,” he said quietly, slowing to a stop just in front of the plaque they’d made for her years ago. “Sorry, I’m a few days late. Things back in Michigan got a little, uh…”

He felt himself trail off, sighing in the place of words.

“...--anyway, um. I brought you some new flowers! These are really nice. I know I usually get you something red, but… I dunno.” Gar shrugged, letting his backpack slide off his arm and leaning forward. He dragged the vase to him and removed the old flowers, stuffing them into his open pack and dusting the old petals away from the stone. Carefully, he pulled the new bouquet from their paper wrapping and settled them into the vase.

“They’re tulips and… uh… hy… hyacinth? I think I said that right. ---They’re really cool---they’ve got these little bell-petal things. And they smell awesome.”

He paused for a response that wouldn’t come. It just felt appropriate… giving whatever may linger there a moment’s silence.

“Rachel told me to get this little ‘nutrients mix’ or whatever to put in the water, too,” he continued, producing a water bottle and small paper packet next. “She said it’d help the flowers last longer. I know they don’t get a lotta light down here, but… I dunno. She’s usually right about these kinda things.”

He smiled up at her, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. He poured the powder into the bottle and closed it again, giving it a couple quick shakes to ensure it’d been thoroughly mixed, then delicately held the stems aside to pour the water into the vase.

“Can you believe I actually graduated? Heh. Aliens; _totally_ one-hundred percent a thing---we kinda lived with one. Dudes who can fly or punch you into Canada; see it every day. ... _me,_ passing high school? There must be a monkey somewhere I didn’t know I was the uncle of, huh?”

His already weak grin faded, the joke hanging and crumbling in the followed silence. Gar sighed, leaning away from the vase and capping the remaining water as he muttered, “I gotta stop doing that…”

Quiet settled over the empty room again as he placed the bottle back in his pack, zipping it closed.

“... I’m glad there’s no school this year,” he finally said, looking up at her briefly before letting his eyes sink back to the white and blue flowers. “And… I’m glad to be back, here. Helping the Patrol out with things every couple months is cool and all; this summer was just… …---I feel better. Being back in Jump City. Y’know?”

He felt like a jerk just saying it, even if it was true. Gar shrugged, letting his arms drop to his sides.

“I, uh… I’d… --I want to stay longer, Tara, but. The others are waiting for me to get back. They wanna go out, get some food.” He hesitated for a long moment before reaching down and picking up his backpack, tugging it back over his shoulders. “I’ll be back soon. And I’ll say ‘hi’ to everyone else for you. Give Kori a really big hug, Vic one of your awesome high fives and wave at Rachel. Maybe she’ll wave back.”

He grinned up at her, managing to hold the expression for a second or two before it slowly sank away. Even now, years later, it was still hard to pry his feet from this spot at the end of his visit. It felt wrong, leaving her here. It always had. So he stood for a while, just staring up at her in the cavern’s steady silence.

By the time he left the caves, he had realized just how sore, tired and hungry he was. He’d been traveling since early afternoon the previous day, jumping between buses and flying with his own two wings, making pit stops at small diners or gas stations to grab food and drink when needed. The trip from Michigan to California definitely wasn’t the worst or longest he’d ever been on, though, and he enjoyed it. There was an odd kind of thrill to napping on the bus rides, chilling in the diners and watching the various landscapes, homes, and buildings pass beneath him as he flew. Sometimes he thought about them as he glided overhead... wondered what kinds of lives they lead. Were they happy? Safe? ...he hoped so.

Gar took to the skies again, this time falling back onto a familiar route. Following the coast, it didn’t take long for the large, looming T to fade into view. The sight was a fleeting comfort.

He knew they’d all ask about summer. They’d ask because they cared, of course, but… it was a bit more complicated than ‘summer good!’ or ‘summer bad!’ (although the former was exactly what he was going to tell them). For the past three years, he’d been making this trip, trying to formulate an answer during his journey back to California. And, each time, once he was on the spot he’d stutter. Somehow, he seemed to convince them or, at least, 'satisfy' them. But it was getting harder and harder with every return.

As Gar glided towards the Tower roof, he cast a glance to the island below and felt a bubble of happiness rise in his chest. Kori’s garden was flourishing; he could see an array of colors and shapes blanketed among the rocks and grass below, blending with the few trees the island had. He was almost jealous of Vic and Rachel---that they’d gotten to help her nurse and grow it over the summer---but, mostly, he was happy. She’d struggled with it the previous year and become disheartened. Now, it looked better than ever.

With a slow breath, he lowered from the air and dropped towards the roof. He swerved upward to straighten himself, morphing back and grunting as his shoes hit the cement. His backpack threw him off balance for only a moment, and he tugged the straps to tighten them into place.

“Welcome back.”

The voice, soft-spoken as it’d been, made him jump a little. His ear flicked, and he turned toward the West end of the roof and realized why he hadn’t heard footsteps or any clue of approach. Rachel hovered a few feet off the ground just in the West end’s center, her presence silent as a shadow. Her legs were neatly folded in their usual meditation criss-cross, and her palms rested on her knees. She was looking towards him, now, her expression calm and neutral. But he could feel a small sense of warmth radiating from her, calming the anxious twist in his gut.

He grinned, dropping his arms to his sides and taking a few steps towards her. “Would’ve taken the front entrance if I’d known you were up here.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve,” she said, one of her brows rising just slightly. Gar pocketed his hands, his grin softening as he shrugged.

“Y’got me there." He paused, then raised his hand in a small wave. "...hey.”

“Hi,” she returned, rotating in the air to better face him. “You’re running late. I’m surprised Vic hasn’t blown up your phone with texts. Unless he has…?”

“Nah,” he said, glancing off the roof and over the open ocean. It glimmered under the sun’s touch, some patches of the restless water dotted by shadows of clouds. He could hear the steady growl of waves rolling against the island below them. “He, uh. He knew I was gonna drop by and visit Tara on my way here.”

There was a mild shift in the atmosphere; he could feel it. The air thickened. But he saw Rachel nod quietly in the corner of his eye. She was silent for a moment, then she asked, “are you doing alright?”

He blinked, turning his head back to her. “Huh? …---oh! Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s always just kinda hard leaving the caverns, y’know.” Gar shrugged a second time. “I always stand there like an idiot for, like, five minutes before my feet just kinda move on their own. ...is day-dream walking a thing? Or ...is it still 'day-dreaming' if you're not thinking of anything and just spacing out?”

Rachel gave him a dull stare. He almost felt her sigh more than he did hear her. “That’s… not necessarily what I was asking about.”

Oh. ...that didn't take long.

“---Yeah, of course!” Gar flashed her a wider smile, shifting his weight more to one foot, so he took on a more ‘casual-cool’ kind of posture. “Michigan’s not as hoppin’ as California, so I was kinda bored but, uh, I finished a replay of Zelda! That’s always a blast. ...you’re also talkin’ to the Team Instinct gym leader extraordinaire for most of Midway.” He let his smile narrow into a crooked smirk, waggling his brows. “Competition isn’t _too_ bad; I’m not even all that worried about my turf being invaded while I’m gone.”

He didn’t expect her to smile or find any kind of interest in this information, but he was hoping it’d at least shake her off his tail. Her stare remained unwavering. Something cold spread over him in the way that a fresh bedsheet does, and he chuckled, taking a small step back.

“Who knows? Maybe I can even rattle Vic’s status as a Valor leader. ---but, uh, speaking of Vic, I better go let him know I’m back so we can head out for pizza. I’m sure everyone’s hungry by now.”

Rachel continued to stare at him for what felt like an agonizingly long moment before she tilted her chin up a bit. “He’s in the Ops Room working on 'computer stuff.'”

Gar nodded, waving over his shoulder as he turned to move to the roof doors. “Thanks, Rach!!”

His ear flicked as he caught a low ‘mm’ from her, and cautionary feeling of relief trickled through his chest. He’d managed to avoid one encounter. But it wouldn’t be over until he’d gotten through the rest of the day. At least.

Gar pushed through the roof doors and half-stepped, half-hopped down the stairwell until he reached the long corridor that stretched over the top floor. No sooner had he rounded into the hall did the elevator doors slide open. Kori walked out, and she got maybe four steps towards the roof stairwell before she looked up from her phone and spotted him. He felt a surge of excitement spike through him at the same time she straightened, gasping loudly and actually dropping her phone.

“---GARFIELD!!!” She cried, a radiant smile lighting her features. He threw his arms up and open.

“KORI---” her name had hardly left his mouth. She rocketed the rest of the way down the corridor, closing the gap between them in a second’s time and scooping him off his feet into a Tamaran embrace. He squeaked, clumsily dropping his arms around her shoulders and letting his legs swing as she spun the two of them through the air. She was laughing joyously, and it took him a second to realize that he was, too.

“I have missed you _SO MUCH!!_ ” She exclaimed, squishing her cheek against his. “I am so happy to see you!”

“I’m really happy to see you, too, Kori! I missed you, too!” Gar said, laughing anew and tightening his arms around her just enough to give her a gentle squeeze. He gave his legs a small kick, unsurprised to find the floor nowhere in his reach. “---dude, have you gotten taller? That's so not fair.”

She pulled herself back enough to look at him, blinking. “I do not know? Have I?”

“Mmmmaybe?” He said. Then, he bounced his brows and flashed her a playful smile, singing softly, “all I wanna do, is see you turn into…” and whispered: “ _a giant woman._ ”

Kori’s smile widened, and she let out a delighted laugh, sinking through the air until her feet touched the floor again. Her six foot, four-inch self wholly towered over his five foot five, and she leaned over just a bit to place him back on the ground.

“You are so silly,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. Gar carefully pulled his arms off her shoulders and back to his person, loosely wrapping his fingers around the straps of his pack. A toothy grin flashed across his features, and he craned his head back to look up at her.

“Well, y’know. I try.”

Her smile softened. “Yes.” There was a small pause. “Was your summer lovely? And, the Doom Patrol, how are they? You enjoyed your time with them?”

Gar inhaled slowly through his nose, attempting to steel himself without making it visible he was doing so. How was it that every year, they’d each manage to ask him individually before he got the chance to talk to them as a group? And how is it that every year, he still felt utterly unprepared to respond to their one-on-one run-ins? Handling them in a group was much more straightforward, even if they were comfortable enough with each other to not quietly take a bunch of blatant bull hockey.

Kori, this time, felt especially tricky to navigate, though. There was the tiniest sliver of sadness clouding in her eyes, her smile, the very air around her. She was trying to be happy for him despite that he’d been gone since late May, trying to be hopeful that the past wounds in his surrogate family were healing. And it only made his tongue feel all the more swollen and heavy in his mouth.

“---Yeah, it was great!” He said, maybe a little too quickly. She blinked, tilting her head, and he tried to slow himself. “We kicked some bad guy butt, hung out a couple nights around the city, and I even got Larry to laugh at one of my jokes! _Might've_ been a pity laugh but, hey, I'll take it!”

He waited, hoping she’d giggle and drop the topic for something else. Kori smiled… or, tried to. The corners of her lips twitched upwards, then sank into a gentle, skeptical frown. Gar felt his stomach tighten. He had to wiggle out of this before he couldn’t.

“Really, Kori, we had a good time,” he said, letting his grin fall into a smile. “I, uh, I’ll talk about it more over pizza! I just don’t wanna have to keep repeating myself, y’know? It’ll be easier when we’re all together and chowin’ down. And--hey!--I’m really looking forward to that thing we talked about doing back in April! I’m old enough now, remember? The big one-eight?”

This must have been just enough to work. Kori’s expression brightened with excitement and a new sort of curiosity and wonder. She nodded quickly, taking on a genuine smile.

“Yes!! I am, as well. We must review possible designs soon! And also pick where we wish to have them printed.” She reached up, pointing at the outer side of her left arm, just below her shoulders slope. “I am considering this spot?”

“That’d be sweet!” He agreed, giving her a single thumbs up. “Haven’t really thought ‘bout where I’d want mine… guess it’ll ‘pend on what we wind up getting, right?”

“Yes.” She dropped her hand, looking at him again. A new warmth radiated from her as a moment’s silence fell between them, then she leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead. “I am glad you have returned, Garfield. We all are.”

He’d winked an eye shut when a couple strands of her hair slipped off her shoulder and brushed the side of his face. Gar tilted his head back, a much more genuine smile reaching even his eyes as he nodded.

“I’m glad, too, Kori.”

She gave him a gentle grin before stepping around him, pushing into the air and flying down the hall. He watched as she retrieved her phone, lifting his hand in a silent wave when she passed him to continue her way towards the roof. He waited until he heard the faint slam from the stairwell door before allowing his posture to slowly deflate. His ears wilted, and his hand sank, slow, back to his side.

He’d at least been honest with Rachel. He really had finished a replay of Majora’s Mask, really had become the top trainer at several gyms dotted throughout Midway City. ...but he’d straight up lied to Kori. _Kori,_ of all people.

 _Hope you’re happy, you clorbag varblerneilk,_ he thought, staring apologetically at the stairwell for a silent moment.

Gar sighed a weak breath, gripping the straps of his backpack and carrying on to the elevator. Thanks to Kori, it was already on his floor, and he stepped inside, lightly punching the Ops Room button with his thumb. He leaned against the back of the elevator as the doors slid shut, staring at the floor once it shook gently and began its descent.

Vic. He was probably going to be the most difficult to evade. Rachel may be an empath, capable of feeling and reading emotions better than most of the population, but she also had an understanding and respect of privacy… when not to press for more information. Especially among those she considered friends. Her methods were much slower, like water eroding a stone. Vic didn’t have the patience for bullshitting. Usually, it just made him angry.

He’d have to get in and get out of the conversation pretty fast. Maybe running a bit late was a good thing; Vic might be hungry enough to just want to get to the pizza place and eat, already. But he wasn’t usually that lucky.

The elevator doors slid open, and he shoved off the back wall, silently bracing himself. A few steps forward, another couple down the hall aaaand… there it was. The OPs Room. Gar gripped his backpack straps for a moment before forcing his fingers, his posture, to relax and plastering a relaxed smile on his lips. The doors slid open, and he strolled inside.

Immediately, he felt caught off guard. He’d just been thinking about his luck---or lack thereof---hadn’t he? So it shouldn’t have surprised him that much to see Ajaya perched on the right side of the computer’s console, her arms folded loosely across her chest, and one knee crossed over the other. She’d looked up the moment the doors had hissed open. Her bright pink eyes flashed when they met his, and she raised her chin an inch.

“Finally,” she scoffed. “Were you going to make us wait all night?”

Vic turned from where he stood at the computer’s front, his organic eye blinking once before a warm grin spread across his face. “Hey, B!! Welcome back!”

Gar flashed him a grin, shooting double finger guns at the two of them. Ajaya rolled her eyes, turning her head away to look out the window behind her, instead. Maybe it was lucky that she was there. She’d been a Titan for, what, three years now? But there was still some unresolved tension buzzing between her and Vic---he could feel it, like static electricity, whenever the two were close enough. Maybe Vic wouldn’t press too much with her in the room. Maybe he could actually pull this off.

“Good to be back!” Gar said, dropping his arms to his sides. He waggled his brows at Ajaya, despite the fact she was still staring out the window. “And, hey! The hungrier we are, the more pizza we can eat. I see no downside.”

“Oh my gods,” she grumbled. Vic chuckled, planting his hands on his hips.

“I’ll admit, I am starting to get to the point I could clear out the whole parlor,” he said, brow raising. “But I’m glad y’got here safe and sound. Trip wasn’t too hard on ya?”

“Nah,” Gar said, shrugging and holding his palms open. “The usual! Got to see a lot, eat a bunch of good diner food, sleep on the buses and stuff. Listened to that book Rachel recommended to me just before I left, too. It was good! Even if it did make me nervous about flying over the woods at night.”

Vic smirked. “Good to hear. Your summer good, too?”

There it was. He hadn’t even eased into it like Kori and Rachel had. But Gar had anticipated that.

“Sure was,” he answered, even letting his grin slant a bit. He still couldn’t linger. Vic was good with words; he could corner him fast. Get in, get out. “But, hey, I’ll talk more about it over pizza. I’ve been asked, like, three times, now, and it’s starting to feel like a bunch of crazy time loop stuff and déjà vu.”

He saw the shift as well as felt it. It was subtle; a small shadow drifted over Vic’s face, much in the way those lazy clouds had drifted over the field, over the ocean. He could practically see Vic working the possible ways the conversation could go out in his head like he was eyeing a puzzle piece, taking the presence of a potential third participant into consideration. The pause, itself, was only a second’s length. But to Gar, it felt like it refused to pass.

“A’ight,” Vic said, nodding. “Why don’t y’go drop your stuff off in your room? Get yourself settled and whatever, then we’ll head on outta here and get some grub. It’ll give Ajaya and I some time to wrap up these files.”

Relief swept over him in a sweet, warm wave. He resisted the urge to visibly relax.

“Cool! I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“---Oh,” Vic said, pausing as he started to turn back to the computer and pointing at Gar. “And make sure to wear your Cool Patrol jacket. Can’t celebrate the return of our cool dude if he ain’t properly dressed.”

Gar grinned, sincerely this time, and he held up a palm. Vic grinned lightly, smacking his metal hand against it in a solid high-five. Ajaya shook her head, but he could still see the smallest smirk on her lips in her clear reflection.

The trip back up the elevator felt longer this time and he all but shot out the doors the moment they opened. He knew where everyone was, now, so he didn’t hold back sprinting down the corridor and almost slamming into his room door when he failed to put on the breaks at the right time. The metal door glided open, and he ducked inside, waiting until he heard it hiss shut before allowing his shoulders to drop and a heavy breath to gust from his lips.

He’d almost done it. Just one more round of questions and he could go on living here like the summer had never happened. Things would go on as they should. It’d be like he never left.

The sight of his room helped enforce that last point. He hadn’t cleaned it before packing up and heading out back in May; a few articles of clothing were still scattered about the floor or thrown lazily across the bottom bunk and ladder. Three books had remained open near a cluster of pillows in the corner of his room from when he’d crammed for that last week of finals. His closet door was wide open, and a tiny hill of miscellaneous stuff was spilling out of it. He'd shut the metal panels that slid over the window-walls before he left, too, so no natural light flooded the room. The room, itself, had a bit of an odd smell to it. Not necessarily ‘bad’ or ‘dirty’ but… stale, maybe. Like its essence had drained away during his absence.

Gar stepped quietly across the room and tossed his backpack on the lower bunk, unzipping the main pocket. He dug out the old flowers, staring at them for a long moment before giving them a light toss towards the trashcan where his nightstand would have been had he not gotten a bunk bed. Most of the stems made it in, but some fell short and crumpled to the floor; dead petals scattered across the carpet. He made a mental note to clean it up in the morning.

He craned his head back and scanned the top bunk, spotting a large plush shark peeking over the edge. Her mouth was ‘open,' revealing a foam-toothed grin. He smiled back.

“Hey, Deep Blue. You hold down the fort while I was gone?”

Her grin continued, and he decided to take that as a solid ‘you bet I did.'

He continued to dig into his backpack, pulling out a few dirty shirts and pants and chucking them over his shoulder. His hammock and 3DS were placed on the lower bunk. He fished out a leather jacket, unfolding it in his hands until he could see the emblem of a howling wolf and the sleek lettering: ‘Raised by wolves.' His grin shrank into a small smile, and he carefully set the jacket on the top of the backpack.

Gar climbed up the ladder and threw himself onto the top bunk, landing on his back with a grunt. His arms flopped limply over his head, one even sliding over and off the edge of the mattress so it dangled in the air. He could feel Deep Blue’s soft fabric brush against the top of his head and the knuckles of his other hand, and he exhaled a slow, deep breath as he sank into the sheets and closed his eyes.

Finally. For the first time in months. He almost… _almost_ felt fully relaxed.

It was good to be back.


	2. Summer's End

“You can’t seriously be that hungry.”

Ajaya stared over the top of her menu, her eyes squinted and lips peeled away from her teeth in a display of mild disgust. Vic only lifted his head and shot her a crooked smirk, giving his copy of the menu a pointed flick.

“Gar’s back. If I’m gonna get my Meat Lover’s Supreme pizza, I’m gonna have to order it separate.”

She held her stare, expression unchanging. Rachel let out a sigh with deliberate volume, and Kori leaned forward, so her elbows propped on the table’s surface, resting her chin on her laced fingers as she giggled. “I shall aid you in eating the Supreme if I am needed.”

Vic grinned at her, chuckling. “Always got my back.”

Kori’s smile widened, and she winked at him.

Gar perched in the space between Rachel and Kori, his menu raised just enough to veil his excited grin. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the past couple minutes, watching and listening as they bickered over toppings, sizes, and quantity. Despite the lingering knowledge that the banter would pass and questions, worry, would arrive, he found himself settling into the comfort of familiarity.

Below them, the streets of Jump City were alive and bustling. He could hear passing cars, laughter and conversation from civilians walking from shop to shop, and other, smaller sounds that the human ear wouldn’t notice. Midway had similar noises, but the energy was different. Here, there was a vibrancy to things. Not that Midway was ‘dead’ or anything, just that it had this more... ‘chill’ kinda feel… like walking into a cafe you visit every weekend. There might be a lot of sounds---the hiss of espresso machines, clinking of in-house cups, chatter between patrons---but it was never distracting or uncomfortable. It was background noise. Something to fill the silence, something to provide assurance that while you weren’t physically alone, you would go undisturbed. That was the feel of Midway.

Jump City, on the other hand, was something more akin to a park. One huge park. There was also plenty to listen to---from the peace of the ocean wind to the chaos of children shrieking as they played---but the act of approaching a stranger and striking up conversation wasn’t something considered ‘taboo’ or unwelcomed. You could chill here, relax here, but you could just as much kick off your shoes and run wildly through the grass, roll down a hill or join in a game of frisbee with people you’d never met before. There was always something new and exciting in a park, even if you’d visited it a thousand times. You just had to look for it. And that was Jump City.

He took a moment to look around the circular table. They’d swapped their uniforms for casual wear, and their Cool Patrol jackets, in the time he’d been lying in his room. From his left, there was ‘Space Babe,' ‘Handsome Mechanic,' ‘Pretty in Punk’ and ‘Magic(k) Chic(k).' They’d started this silly little ‘group’ maybe two years ago. Just one member was absent from their party.

“Yo, Gar,” Vic said, and Gar’s eyes flicked up from where they’d been aimlessly roaming the table. Their waitress was standing beside Vic, notepad in hand and her thick brows raised just above the rims of her glasses. Vic gestured at him with his menu, lowering his chin a hair. “You gettin’ half a garden pizza?”

“---Oh! Yeah!” Gar answered, quickly nodding his head and flashing a grin towards the waitress. She smirked, noting the order with a few brisk strokes of her pencil.

“Don’t know why you bother asking, Vic,” she said, a playful tone etched in her voice. She lifted her gaze and pointed the eraser at Gar. “Light onion, extra tomato and spinach?”

He shot a finger gun at her, grin narrowing to a slanted smirk. “You know me too well, Marci. I’m gonna have to mix it up soon, throw you off your groove.”

She hummed, pushing her glasses back up her nose with the tip of her pinky finger. “You say that, now, but you’ll come crawling back to your usual.” Then, with a bit more drama. “ _They always do_.”

Ajaya let out a light snort, and Kori laughed softly. Vic chuckled, gathering the menus from them before handing them over to Marci. He gave her a nod. “Thanks, Marce. ‘Preciate it, as always.”

“You got it, ‘Handsome,'” she said, tucking the menus under one arm before spinning on the heel of her shoe and walking across the parlor roof to the door. Gar watched her go, grinning a little when a kid knocked his glass off his table and Marci all but snatched it out of the air, returning it to its place and carrying on with hardly a second thought. If there was a pizza parlor ninja, her name was Marci Montgomery.

Vic drummed his palms on the table three times. “Mmmm _MMMM!_ Man, am I ready to get my eat on.”

“We know,” Ajaya and Rachel muttered in unison. They shot each other a surprised glance before quickly looking away again. Rachel scooped her phone off the table, swiping it open just as it lit up. Vic arched his brow at the two of them before turning his attention to Gar.

“So,” he started, and Gar felt the anxiety that had only been lingering before suddenly wash over him like a bucket of ice water, sharp and jolting every nerve raw. “Pizza ain’t here yet, obviously, but we’re all in one spot, now. And I’m sure you got a lotta stuff to tell us about, being outta town three months.”

All things considered, three months wasn’t that long. But, boy, had it felt like it. Gar tried to feign distraction and look off to the side, over the roof’s edge, only to realize Rachel and Ajaya had both turned their eyes on him, too. He didn’t need to look at Kori; he could feel her gaze resting on his shoulders with the gentle weight of a sparrow.

Gar put on his best, most casual smile, and held up his hands in a lazy shrug. “Eh! Not really?” He dropped his arms, folding them on the edge of the table and leaning into them. “Stopped some dudes from trying to develop another weapon of mass destruction; that’s always fun. Did a lot of training. Most of all, it was just kind’f a buncha… _stuff_. Y’know? Not too much to do between baddies. I even cleaned my room back at HQ! Haha.”

Silence.

He could feel himself starting to sweat and his smile beginning to sink, forcing it to remain light. Kori’s expression read as it had before: an attempt at a returned smile, only for it to wither away into a concerned, skeptical frown. Vic’s gaze was steady; his expression was the appearance of content, but anyone who knew him would know it was questioning and wary. Ajaya made no attempt to mask what was going through her mind. Her thin brows were raised and angled in a full display of _that’s some bullshit if I ever smelt it_ , and she’d palmed a cheek in one hand. Everything about her posture radiated she wasn't buying it, whether she was in the know or not. And Rachel… Rachel, of course, managed to be the most unsettling. Nothing about her composure had changed and her expression remained serene. But her eyes. Her dark, violet eyes were sharp as needles, piercing through every layer until they reached his very being and chilled him to his soul. He felt it like that first scraping gust of winter air when you stepped outside in December or January, sandpapery cold. He barely suppressed a shiver.

“...What?” He asked, dumbly. Vic was the first to speak.

“‘Stuff’?” He repeated, his brow raising slowly. “Just ‘stuff’?”

Gar maintained his smile, bouncing his shoulders in a light shrug. “Yep! ...it was three whole months, dude. I’m not gonna remember _everything_ we did---especially if a lot of it was, like… boring work. Like keeping HQ running or, uh, reviewing files to make sure they’re up to date or whatever. Why else would I’ve cleaned my room? Rather do that than scroll through a buncha stuff I’ve read twenty times.”

There was some honesty in that, at least. Gar really would prefer to purge his room of dirtiness and disorganization than spend several hours struggling to read stuff he already knew, for the most part. He was such a slow reader, too.

Kori frowned softly, and Gar watched as she cast a glance in Rachel’s direction. Rachel returned it, holding the contact for a second or so before they both shifted it in Vic’s direction. Vic glanced between them. Then, he settled his eyes back on Gar. They were silently communicating what to say next, of course. Ajaya was the odd one out, here, though she continued to stare him down, her cat-like pupils studying him with the intensity of an apex predator. If it’d been anyone else he might have felt the urge to turn into a box turtle and hide right then and there… but Ajaya seemed to know---and respect---that she was out of the loop on this subject. She’d never met the Doom Patrol, as she hadn’t been a Titan when they’d gone to their aid a few years back. So, despite that she seemed to know he was trying to kick something under the rug, she might bite her tongue. Might.

Gar bounced his knee under the table. He closed his hands to keep his fingers from tapping its surface, realizing his palms had begun to sweat.

“So,” Vic started, a cautious tone in his voice. “It really was pretty chill? That weapon of mass destruction thing must not’ve been as exciting as it sounds if y’don’t have anything more to say about it.”

“Eh, Mento had some sources who gave him a heads-up early on,” Gar said. “Lucky us. We got there before they’d gotten too much done on it. Wasn’t anything like the, uh. The black hole generator. Or, at least, not at the point it’d be a threat. We got there, we smashed it... “ He popped another lazy shrug. “That’s it.”

Rachel’s brow rose. Vic studied him.

“And y’all got along?”

He couldn’t place why the question triggered the reaction it did or explain why he felt his body temperature rise and his mouth go dry. Just that something in him bristled. His hair might have stood on end if he’d been a dog or a cat. Gar hoped with every fiber of his being that his outer composure remained collected, and he tried to ignore the hornets that were all at once buzzing in his head and chest.

“‘Course we did!” He said, relieved to hear the ease in his own voice. And, without thinking, he added, “why wouldn’t we?”

They stared at him.

He wished he could snatch the words out of the air, cram them into his mouth and swallow them whole. He’d just opened _every_ door he could have, and all they had to do was pick one to walk through. The hornets flew into a panic, and for a long moment, all he could hear was his blood pulsing in his ears. _Crap,_ he thought. _Crap, what do I do?_ If he tried to derail the conversation now, it’d be even more evident that things hadn’t gone well. If he waited for one of them to speak up, he might get cornered. _How do I save this---what do I do?? I could turn tail and jump off the roof---it's, what, five feet behind me??? ---But they'll just find me later---Crap, crap, **crap,** you **idiot** , why didn’t you just---_

“Ugh! Fine, whatever,” Ajaya said suddenly, dropping her hand away from her cheek and smacking it loudly on the table. They all twisted sharply to look at her. “If you don’t have anything more exciting to say, then it’s our turn.”

Gar didn’t know if she’d spoken up because she’d started to get uncomfortable or if she was trying to give him an out. Either way, he could have thrown his arms around her and hugged her for ten full minutes if he weren't confident she’d punch him clean in the nose and break it.

Vic glanced at Ajaya, starting to open his mouth, but she went on talking whether she noticed him or not.

“Billy Numerous tried to rob the jewelry store downtown like the genius he is. We kicked his ass before he had the chance to pop one of his stupid catchphrases.” She paused to roll her eyes, lips curving easily into a shape of sheer disdain. “Thank the gods for that. That Red X guy also popped up for a while in July, and that was a fuckin’ wild ride. He’s an asshole.”

“Mmm,” Kori hummed, her eyelids dropping half-way down as her expression dulled. “... fortunately for us, you kept him locked in a verbal battle for _just_ the appropriate amount of time.”

Gar had been desperately trying to listen to Ajaya as she’d spoken, but coming down from the previous panic had left his head spinning. This, however, he managed to catch, and his ears rose sharply as he sat up a little straighter. “Wait. You guys took down Red X because he and Ajaya were _arguing?_ ”

Ajaya’s mouth twisted into a wicked little smirk.

“More like they got into some kinda unspoken ‘sass-off.' Distracted him just long enough for us to get the upper hand and pull a few quick tricks,” Vic said, his own mouth slanting into a simper despite any of his previous concerns. Gar even thought he saw a glint in his organic eye… something akin to pride, maybe? “Ajaya won.”

“Obviously,” she said, lifting her chin and tapping one slim finger against the table. She paused a moment, then frowned. “But, uh. Some bad news. That… disgusting heart-thing is lurking around somewhere.”

Gar’s smile dropped. “---Kardiak?”

Rachel frowned, nodding along with Kori and Vic. Gar let himself shudder a little, huffing. “Ugh. It’s _so_ creepy. ...how long has it been ‘lurking around’? ---no kids are missing, are they?”

“No,” Vic said, his expression darkening. “Wherever it is, it’s been quiet. All we know is it’s out. We’ve done a bit of searchin’ around, checking places it might be hiding in the city but… no luck so far. Been about a week.”

“We do not believe it has left the city,” Kori said, sitting back and folding her hands on the table. “Just that it is evading us.”

“It goes without saying that we need to keep an eye out for signs,” Rachel added. “It learns. Adapts.”

Vic nodded. “Yeah.” Then, he shot Gar a small smile, his brow lifting. “Should be easier now that the team’s back together. We’ll get ‘em.”

The words settled the remaining jitters in Gar’s chest, and he returned the smile with a nod. He got the vibe that he wasn’t free of suspicion just yet, however. Some of the cautionary walls sank away, but most of them remained standing and ready.

He’d just been preparing to compliment Kori on the success of her garden when he heard the light squeal of the roof doors. None of the others had caught it over the sounds of the city, the conversation idling from other patrons who’d chosen to eat on the roof, and Gar shifted his eyes to see Marci slide through the doors with another server. She had two large pizza platters balanced on each hand; the second server carried the third one with an air of concern that prompted Gar to decide he must be kinda new to the parlor.

Marci strode towards them, side-stepping so she could weave between Vic and Ajaya to set the first platter in the center-left of the table. “Meat Lover Supreme for the self-proclaimed ‘Handsome Mechanic.'”

Ajaya sat back to make room for the second pizza, rolling her eyes as Vic clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly.

“Thanks, Marce!” He said. She smirked, twisting to place the second platter.

“Uh huh. Aaaand here we have half garden, half marinara.”

“Thank you,” Rachel muttered, sliding her phone to her left enough to make room. Gar blinked as she did; up until just now, it hadn’t occurred to him how odd it was that her phone was out of her pocket. And especially during a meal. He eyed it curiously before dismissing the thought, returning his attention to Marci and grinning as he nodded.

“Yeah! Thanks!”

“You betcha,” she replied, turning and taking the third pizza from the second server with ease. She settled it in the center, whisking her fingers out from under it just before they had the chance to get caught between platters. “Last but not least: Hawaiian. With a dash of bacon.”

“Wonderful!” Kori said, beaming. Marci chuckled, dusting her hands and wiping them on her apron.

“Anything else I can get my favorite band of weirdos?”

Vic gave her a thumbs up. “I think we’re set for now.”

“Cool. Wave me down if you need refills or get a wild hair for dessert.” She saluted with two fingers and turned, heading back to the doors with her partner in tow.

They dove in, napkins spread for makeshift plates and finger cleaning. Gar swept up a large slice of the garden pizza, using his pinky to twirl the platter so Rachel could nab a slice of the marinara without reaching over the entire thing. She nodded once as she plucked it from the whole.

“You, uh, taking any more classes this fall, Vic?” Gar asked after a minute or two, his ears raising as he bit off the end of a slice. Vic grunted---already having devoured half his own slice---and made an effort to swallow the bite.

“Mghsure am,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Might be moving back in with pops on and off, just as a heads up. It’d be for the start of classes and once finals start creepin’ in. So I’ll still be in the area, as always, but y’know. His place doesn’t have all the bells and whistles the Tower does; chances of me gettin’ distracted with some kinda project will be much smaller.”

Gar nodded. Vic finished off the piece before tilting his chin in his direction. “What ‘bout you? ...fall classes at most places have started up, already, but were you think’ about something in the spring?”

“Ehhhh,” Gar said, squinting one eye and shrugging. “I dunno. Haven’t thought about it all that much.”

Not since June, anyway. He’d thought about it a lot in June, then abandoned the concept.

“Think I’d rather just hang ‘round here if I’m needed for now.”

Vic eyed him carefully. And just as Gar was starting to get worried he’d prod, he shrugged and grabbed for another slice of pizza instead. Gar exhaled softly through his nose, allowing himself a brief moment of relief. Ajaya popped one of her fingers out of her mouth, pinching a napkin between it and her thumb to rub it clean.

“We need to start planning for Halloween,” she announced. Gar’s ears shot up. Kori gasped around her pizza. Vic turned, casting Ajaya a dull, flat look.

“It’s _August_.”

Ajaya’s brows rose along with her chin. “ _Late_ August. Time to get spooky.”

“Too spooky,” Gar whispered, grinning when Vic gave him a _don’t encourage her_ glance. It was too late, though. Ajaya had already shot Gar a glimpse of her own, flecks of mischievous energy dancing in her eyes. Rachel hummed, brushing her napkin under her bottom lip.

“It _would_ be a good idea to start preparing a line up for a horror marathon. Last year’s was… a disappointment.”

“Says you!” Gar said, turning to her. “I slept on Kori’s floor for, like, three days!”

Rachel stared at him for a couple seconds before looking away, muttering into her glass, “okay, Ju-on was good.”

“I propose we communicate with our friends soon,” Kori said, nudging her pizza crusts and napkins aside to fold her hands on the table in their place. She raised a hand and finger. “So that we may coordinate costumes if we desire! And to plan if we will be hosting a party or attending one in the city. Or both! If we are all energetic enough to do so.”

“---How are the dudes in Steel, anyway?” Gar asked, peeling a slice of tomato loose from some cheese. “Roy was in a group text with Casper and I, but he left after I sent a meme. That was a few days ago. Haven’t talked to the twins or Karen… or Garth, but, uh. He’s been underwater, so reception’s bad anyway.”

Vic snorted. “Was it quality?”

“Dude, all my memes are quality. How is that even a question?”

“---They’re fine,” Rachel interrupted, plucking her phone off the table. Gar realized it had lit up but hadn’t looked quick enough to see why. She slanted her gaze to Vic, who smirked but complied with her silent order.

“Yeah, they’re good. Things’ve been a little crazy over there from what I’ve heard, but they’re handlin’ it. Roy and Karen might be able to drop into town for a party, but I’m not sure ‘bout the twins. ...and Garth’s hands are kinda tied with Atlantis, so… unless we hear from him directly, he’s out.”

“I gotta get a hold of Bette,” Gar added. “Make sure to tell her we’re workin’ on a Halloween plan, so she doesn’t make any of her own and miss out.”

“Wally should be back in town soon, too,” Ajaya said after taking a slow sip through her straw. Gar straightened a bit.

‘In town’ was really code for ‘no longer in orbit.' ‘Orbit’ as in the Watchtower, the Justice League’s headquarters. It’d been just over two years since Wally had taken up the Flash mantle, joining the League soon after. And while the shift hadn’t been a… difficult one, it had been delicate in a way Gar couldn’t begin to conceive. He’d... experienced loss before, of course, but what Barry had been for Wally was something entirely beyond his ability to explain. He both barely remembered that June and remembered it so vividly his ribs ached. Vic had come to his room door while he’d been playing Harvest Moon, and he’d looked up, startled to meet his best friend’s pale and near-broken expression.

_… Barry was killed today…_

It hadn’t registered at first. In fact, it’d registered so little that, for a moment, Gar hadn’t thought Vic had spoken at all. He remembered that stretch of silence with horrible accuracy. He remembered how Vic’s expression somehow managed to fall further, as though the news was only now making sense in his own head. He remembered all at once becoming acutely aware that Kori was crying somewhere in the hallway, Rachel’s gentle attempts to comfort her falling short. If that had been what they'd felt, how they'd reacted... he couldn't imagine... Iris... Wally...

Even thinking about it now caused a sourness to bubble in his throat, tightening it as though he’d just poured pure lemon juice in his mouth. He swallowed quickly, snatching his glass and taking a long drink from the straw.

“Our snack supply would suffer, but I guess we should invite him to whatever party we decide to go to or… host or… whatever,” Ajaya continued, rolling her wrist in a vague gesture. “Maybe we could talk him into kicking Harper’s ass at bobbing for apples again.”

“Every time we have a party, you want _someone_ to kick Roy’s ass at _something_ ,” Vic muttered.

“What can I say?” Ajaya said, taking on an almost silken tone. “He’s funny when his tighty whities are in a wad. Like a cat with socks.”

“---How’s he been?” Gar blurted, suddenly. Ajaya looked at him, her expression confused, and he quickly added, “Wally. I mean Wally. We, uh, texted on and off over the summer, but he’s been really---”

“---busy?” She finished, dropping her cheek into her palm. She nodded, huffing a stray strand of hair out of her face and shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, between ‘work’ and classes and getting his apartment together, he’s been occupied. But he’s fine. Obnoxiously sunny, as always. Too much energy. Steals your chips and fries when you're not looking. You know how it is.”

Gar blinked, one of his ears slanting a little. “Classes... Still forensics stuff?”

She nodded, and he nodded, too. “Cool.”

“I’ll shoot him a text after pizza,” Ajaya said, shifting her gaze to Kori. “He might not pop up until later on Halloween, though. Usually has plans.”

“Yeah,” Gar said, allowing himself to smile playfully in Kori’s direction. “He likes to hang with the kids in Central on Halloween. Kinda like we do after sunset. But better.”

Kori blinked widely and placed a hand on her chest, leaning back as though she’d just been insulted. He grinned, waving a hand at her in a dismissive manner. Her act broke, and she giggled. Ajaya ignored their display and nodded her head.

“Mark him down as a ‘yes,’ but he’ll be ‘late.'”

“Oh, the irony,” Rachel muttered, her thumbs tapping silently on her phone. Gar blinked at her, slightly perplexed as he realized this was the third time she’d answered it. At a meal. Curiosity began to buzz in his head. He turned his attention to Vic, whose brow had risen as he, also, watched Rachel type away. Gar had hoped to catch his eye at that moment and maybe get some kind of silent answer but, no, Vic hadn’t noticed him.

“Maybe,” Vic began, his eye lifting from Rachel’s phone to gaze at her directly, “Rachel could invite her mysterious, super cool new friend, too.”

Rachel’s eyes shot up from the screen, locking onto him.

Over the past couple years, Gar’s ability to tap into the ‘sixth sense’ while still in his human form had gotten better. So much better, in fact, that he just kept the switch in the ‘on position.' It took a lot of getting used to---especially as it had gotten more alert and sensitive with time---but he’d rather tolerate the occasionally uncomfortable itch than be caught by surprise. Rachel, unfortunately, was one of those occasionally uncomfortable vibes. The parts of her that came from her ‘father’ gave off a distinct chill, even when she was calm or content. He’d learned to recognize them, and he’d also gotten used to them. He could sit by her side and ignore the cold stone in his stomach, sometimes even take an odd kind of comfort in it.

But when her temper would begin to rise, the sensation he received was amplified. More than by that of the average person. Even now, he could feel the stone in his gut begin to melt into a hot, bubbling lava. The flesh on his arms and neck began to tingle as though thousands of ants were swarming him. Rachel valued her privacy and hated to have it invaded in even the smallest of ways. She, clearly, was not ready to share this with them.

Still… he couldn’t help the tiny trickle of worry. Rachel had good judgment. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. All this he knew, believed. But the last time she’d had a ‘secret friend’...

“Anyway.” Vic’s voice pulled him from the thought. “I better not start seein’ Halloween decorations around the Tower in mid-September.”

Ajaya’s gaze flicked to him, her eyes glinting. “Or what?”

Vic squinted at her. Gar’s ears twitched as Kori began humming the unmistakable tune of _This is Halloween_ , her eyes twinkling with mischief. He grinned hugely at her, and she swayed in time with the melody. Vic sighed, rolling his eye with a slow shake of his head.

“Y’all are worse than retail stores.”

“---WOW,” Gar exclaimed. Ajaya stuck out her tongue.

“Alright!” Vic lightly smacked his hands on the table, causing all the glasses to rattle. “I’m gonna go grab the bill from Marci. Put a pin in the Halloween plans; we’ll talk ‘bout those later---start a group chat for organizing, maybe. I’ll let Kori take charge of that. Gar: we’re glad you’re back. And, uh… we’re glad that things are goin’ well with the Patrol.”

A jolt of guilt spiked through him. Gar flashed a smile to offset it, curling his fingers closed as his palms warmed again. He felt a flicker of something from his right; Rachel might have sensed that jolt before he could smother it. He opted to ignore this possibility for now and hope he was just paranoid.

“Thanks!” He chirped, sitting back and drumming his hands on the table. “And, uh, thanks for planning the pizza night! I’m really excited to be back. ‘Specially with Halloween around the corner.”

Vic sighed at the gentle jab, pushing up from the table. Kori began to nudge the glasses into one area so they could be quickly gathered, and Ajaya muttered something about snatching to-go boxes for the couple of slices that’d been spared their feeding frenzy before she, too, walked away.

Once the pizza had been collected, the glasses grouped and a generous tip slipped beneath one of them to weigh the bills down, they began to file towards the parlor doors. Gar took a moment to dust a few stray crumbs from the flaps of his jacket and shirt. Kori had gone to find Vic and Ajaya, but he could still see Rachel standing quietly in his peripheral vision. When he looked back up, he was both startled and unsurprised to see that she was staring at him, her arms in a lazy fold.

He blinked. “Uuh… what’s up, Rach?”

She frowned, and for a moment he saw open concern cross her features. “Is everything really okay?”

“Yeah!” He said, shrugging and giving her the most genuine smile he could muster. “Of course.”

He could feel himself deflating under her gaze. He knew he wasn’t fooling her. Not even for a second. Whether she was tapping into her emotion radar or not, she knew how to read him. Knew several of his tricks, the mannerisms he hid behind. It was as infuriating as it was soothing. She’d respect his desire not to talk about it; he knew that much. But… he’d already lied to Kori---lied to _all_ of them. He had to admit to something, or he'd burst. Even if it was as vague as he could possibly make it.

Gar sighed, allowing his shoulders to sag in the slightest as he held his palms to his sides. “Look, it… it went as well as it could have. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

She held eye contact for another long moment. Something fogged the air around her… sadness, maybe? He couldn’t put his finger on it in time; it was gone just as quickly as it’d come. Rachel nodded, dropping her arms and turning away from him. He watched her walk a few steps towards the roof doors before falling into place shortly behind her, his eyes trailing from the ravens embellished on her jacket down to stare at the heels of her boots.

There. That was it. That had to be it. The questions were over. The summer, behind him. He could move on and enjoy his time with them, again, and they wouldn’t treat him so delicately or look at him with pity. He couldn’t stand that.

...he did feel remorseful that he wanted to forget the past three months so desperately, though. It hadn’t been _that_ bad, he told himself. Definitely could have been worse. It _always_ could be worse. These kinds of things took time, didn’t they? It was… stupid to expect a near immediate change in their attitudes, their actions. It wasn’t fair. He’d get through to them eventually. And they’d accept him. ...all of them.

He’d just stepped off the stairs when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He tugged it out as it continued to vibrate angrily, swiping the text open before he thought to check the sender. The use of all caps and excessive exclamation points was all it took to give him that answer, anyway.

> [imojeans, 8:25pm]: WHAT!!! THE FUUUUUUUUCK!!!
> 
> [imojeans, 8:25pm]: U DIDNT TELL ME U WERE BACK FROM MICHIGAN U ASS!!!
> 
> [imojeans, 8:25pm]: ( ≧Д≦) UR THE WORST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He grinned, snorting out a chuckle and lifting his eyes only long enough to make sure he wouldn’t walk into a table as he replied.

> [alligartor, 8:26pm]: if i didnt tell you who did?
> 
> [imojeans, 8:26pm]: um MOM did???? who else????
> 
> [imojeans, 8:26pm]: i only have mom 2 depend on. (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

She was referring to Vic, of course. She'd dubbed him 'Fairy Squad Mother' within minutes of meeting him.

> [alligartor, 8:27pm]: i’m sorry!! :/ been kinda busy since i got back.
> 
> [imojeans, 8:28pm]: ur excuses suck.
> 
> [imojeans, 8:28pm]: so do u.
> 
> [alligartor, 8:28pm]: you suck too
> 
> [alligartor, 8:28pm]: equality
> 
> [imojeans, 8:28pm]: 凸ಠ益ಠ)凸

“Yo, GAR! C’mon, man!”

He looked up, spotting Vic holding the parlor door open. The others had already piled into the T-Car. Gar grinned sheepishly, jogging the remaining way to the doors.

“Thanks for ratting me out to Imogene.”

Vic smirked. “She spammin’ your phone already?” He laughed as Gar passed him, nodding. “Yeah, well, s’what you get for not tellin’ her. You had plenty’ve time between gettin’ back and now.”

“I know, I know,” Gar muttered, his grin weakening. “Just got distracted, I guess.”

“You can make it up to her later. Bring her some kind of Sailor Moon merch and grovel at her feet. Beg forgiveness.”

“Sooooo the usual.”

“The usual.”

They shared a laugh; Vic lightly cuffed his shoulder. And at last. He felt at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gentle shout out to [greenesweater](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greenesweater) for letting me use her wonderful OCs, Imogene and Marci! they are important and loved.


	3. Think Fast

Two days passed before the Tower alarm blared to life.

Around 5:30pm, Gar was scouring his room. He was probably making the current mess even worse as he dug through his closet, nudged scattered clothes from here to there, and pulled various drawers out of their place to set them on the ground. In his rush to start the trip out of Michigan, it seemed he’d forgotten to grab his 3DS charger. He knew he had a spare--he’d started buying these types of things in pairs for this exact reason--but the problem, now, was finding the darn thing. He always took into account that he could have put it anywhere because… god knows, in the daily shuffle that was his present living space, he could have tossed it on his bed, then flipped the sheets and knocked it on the ground with his clothes, then kicked it under something when he tried to move the clothes out of the way. And that was the most natural scenario. The fact of the matter was, he had a talent for mysteriously misplacing things in new and creative ways. They still hadn’t found the stupid waffle iron he lost years ago. He asked Deep Blue if she’d seen it, and the plush shark had only continued to grin. She was most likely mocking him. His frustration was amusing.

When the alarm sounded, he nearly jumped out of his skin. The noise, while familiar, felt louder than he remembered it. Wasn’t helped that his hearing was far better than most, making the pitch of the scream even more cutting than it probably was.

Gar couldn’t tell if the race of his heart came from the surprise of the alarm or from his own, genuine excitement as he shot out of his room. He all but threw himself through the air, shifting into an emu and rocketing down the hall towards the elevator. Its doors open and he slid inside, morphing back and jamming his thumb into the Ops Room button. He felt stupidly giddy, just like when he was 11 and again when he was 13. This childish mindset flooded him every first-alarm back at the Tower since he’d started traveling between it and Doom Patrol HQ.

He bolted out the elevator doors, rushing into the Ops Room and grinning hugely despite himself as he entered. Jinx and Starfire were already in the room; Star hovered just in front of the massive window-screen, and Jinx stood shortly to her right.

“I’m here!!” He said, screeching to a halt beside Jinx. He had to throw his arms out to balance himself. “And ready to rumble.”

Jinx and Star turned their heads. Both of their expressions were slightly constricted, and there was a look of foreboding in Star’s eyes. He knew that look, that dread. But he chuckled nervously anyway and planted his hands on his hips, asking:

“Oh no… who is it?”

* * *

 

The smell hit him maybe a mile out. Almost immediately, his nose and eyes began to burn a bit. It was terrible. Like some blend of sunbaked garbage, rotten eggs and a third thing he really didn’t want to think too much about. The nausea that came with it would only last a few minutes (he hoped) but the smell, itself, was something you’d never get used to. He was beginning to suspect it only got worse with each encounter.

When they arrived, Plasmus had wandered to the side of the street. The walking mass of repulsive sludge had managed to crack open an area of the sidewalk and access some kind of piping system running beneath it. He was crouched beside the opening he’d made, gurgling and growling at nothing in particular. The boils, or eyes, or whatever they were, pulsed around his face and shoulders. It was a display of irritation. Beast Boy had learned to recognize it as an actual form of 'body language,' as Plasmus, himself, wasn't able to speak while awake.

Beast Boy lowered in the air, straightening out and morphing back seconds before he reached the ground. He rolled his shoulders and grimaced at the watery, bubbling sound coming from the pipes underground. Somewhere behind him, Starfire lowered in the air, and Jinx’s platform boots hit the cement. Cyborg stepped up to his right and Raven glided to his left; he sent the former a sideways glance.

“So. We got a plan for ol’ muk over there?”

“Don’t get hit by gunk shot?” Cyborg suggested, his cybernetic eye glowing a brighter red. Jinx had just jogged up beside him, scoffing as he finished speaking. She slanted her gaze enough to look at Raven.

“If that’s some kind of nerd reference, I don’t know either of them.”

“That makes two of us,” Raven muttered.

Plasmus hadn’t moved from where he stooped over the hole. Either he hadn’t noticed their arrival, or he didn’t care. About a block down, Beast Boy could see the result of a crash; one of the city prisoner transport vehicles must have swerved off the road and slammed into the corner of a building, the brick and dust scattered on the pavement. From what he could tell, the back of the armored car had been melted off. Steam was still creeping into the air above the metal, and he could barely make out the scent of scorched rubber through the foul smell Plasmus gave off. He guessed the crash had woken him up, and one acid-vomit later he’d escaped the vehicle.

Didn’t look like any civilians had been hurt in the crash or in Plasmus’ escape. The area had cleared out (if not from the smell alone), leaving just them and one disgusting problem.

Beast Boy opened his mouth but, before he had the chance to speak, a bright flash of pink flared from his right. Jinx fired a hex at the sidewalk’s lining, causing the cement around it to shudder violently before crumbling into the hole. There came a brief popping sound and a hiss. Plasmus jerked away. The debris had cut off his access to the piping system, robbing him of whatever ‘meal’ he’d been trying to get to. It took a couple seconds for this to click in the monster’s head… but once it had, it became clear. Plasmus reared back, releasing a screech that echoed and gurgled and caused Beast Boy to wince. Cyborg raised his arm, his fingers and hand folding back and forming into his canon.

“Skippin’ straight to pissin’ him off, I see.”

Jinx scowled, pink energy dancing around her spread fingertips. “I like my nose functional and him in a smell-proof container.”

If Plasmus hadn’t noticed them before, he definitely did now. The giant turned, mouth peeling back in a snarl, and let out another horrible shriek. The cry hadn’t ended before he launched his arms forward in streams of wretched purple slime.

Beast Boy swept to the side along with Cyborg and Jinx, Star and Raven splitting in the opposite direction. The gunk hit the pavement and released a new spray of the awful smell as it pooled in the road. Beast Boy’s nose scrunched up, and he resisted the reflex to turn away.

“--Ugh! Is it me, or is he goopier today?” He asked, raising his arm over his lower face. Jinx also cringed, one of her hands hovering just in front of her nose and mouth.

“You are what you eat…?”

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“--B!” Cyborg straightened, his canon beginning to glow a piercing blue. “Go check the car! Make sure any guards drivin’ it got out--and no one in the building got hurt in the crash!”

Beast Boy nodded, spinning on his heel and bolting towards the remains of the vehicle.

He’d been assigned this because all he had to offer against Plasmus were physical attacks. While this could be useful when it came to herding the monster away from populated areas or into a trap, most physical strikes were just absorbed like a sponge. He could spear Plasmus on a tusk, stomp on him or, god forbid, bite and rip one of his arms off, and Plasmus wouldn’t even notice. There was always a chance that ramming him into a wall with the right amount of force could knock him out, causing him to shrink and compress back into his human form, but most days they didn’t want to take the risk that Beast Boy would be swallowed inside the mass if the trick failed. Yeah, he was grateful for that.

An explosion of energy sounded behind him--one of Star’s blasts, he noted--and he ignored the furious shriek that followed. Beast Boy reached and rounded the armored car, gripping some of the building’s loose brick with his gloved hands and tearing it away. He leaned through the hole, peering into the open passenger door. That side was empty, but a driver was slumped against the steering wheel, the lense of their standard issued helmet heavily cracked. If they’d had a partner--and he assumed they had--that partner had abandoned them.

He quickly nudged the door to test how much further it’d open and found the gap just large enough for him to slip inside without needing to change form. Another sound popped, crackling loudly down the street. Plasmus screamed. He wedged into the vehicle, ears swiveling small circles against the sides of his head.

The driver didn’t move as he crawled into the passenger seat and closed the space between them. He delicately placed a hand on their helmet, pressing against it just enough to give him a view of their neck. He pushed two fingers to their pulse point. A heartbeat was there. He allowed himself a sigh of relief, nodding and leaning to click their seatbelt free.

“It’s okay, dude,” he muttered in case they could hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here and somewhere safe real qu--”

He cut off, muscles locking up, so he went stone still. Only his ears twitched.

For a long moment, he heard nothing but the chaotic cries and crashes from the battle behind them. The ground rumbled at one point, causing the glass that remained in the windows of the car to shudder. But he knew he’d heard--no, _felt_ \--something. It prickled the skin on the back of his neck, spreading to tingle in his shoulders. The extra sense... senses... were trying to warn him in their voiceless whispers. Like a tap on the base of the neck. Warm breath on your ear.

_Danger._

_Danger, here. Near._

_Don't move. Don't. Move._

Then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw it.

It slid, slow, in the shadows around the driver’s legs, slithering out from beneath their seat. Its murky purple coloring near masked it in the darkness, and it began to coil by the pedals. Beast Boy watched as it turned its ‘head’ towards him, a single, near-neon green ‘eye’ surfacing through the muck to stare back at him. There was a brief, but sharp, snapping sound and the snake's face split into a pair of mandibles. His stomach tightened.

“... you gotta be freaking kidding me.”

The snake lunged at him. He shoved himself backward, falling over his legs and yelping when his shoulder clipped the door’s edge. His form changed in an instant, shrinking into a bearded dragon. He toppled through the doorway and hit the pavement hard, skittering beneath the van. A bubbling, high-pitched hiss told him the snake was right behind him. The moment he came out on the other side, he shifted into a rabbit and sprang down the street. He was briefly grateful that the thing was chasing him rather than sticking around with the driver. Still had to get them somewhere safer, though. Quick.

Beast Boy took in a sharp breath, slamming on the brakes and shifting from lithe rabbit to gorilla. No sooner had he turned did the snake squeal, slithering nonsensically towards him, mandibles wide. He balled his fists and lifted them over his head with a rumbling growl. They tore through the air and smashed the creature into the cement, popping its head and neon eye like a grape. He grabbed its tail and swung it, chucking the squirming thing back down the street towards the others, hoping it might see Plasmus and be encouraged to return to its original body. As the snake tumbled, writhing and twitching, he morphed back.

To say his hands felt disgusting would be an understatement. His gloves, pointless now, were torn off, and he dropped them at his feet with a groan and a flick of his hands and fingers. The smell was repulsive. And that was without the slimy, yet somehow grainy, texture now soiling his skin. It was uncomfortably hot; not enough to burn but enough to serve a constant reminder that it was there. _I really need some kinda projectile or long-range weapon or whatever that isn’t part of my body,_ he thought, trying to decide if he should wipe his hands on the fabric covering his legs. Ugh, but then that warm feeling would be all over his thighs and knees, and that was just... --no thanks. Didn't like the idea of that on his sides or stomach, either. Nothing he was coming up with seemed like a good solution. ...maybe he could just... casually smear it on the nearest wall...

His ears twitched sharply, and he looked up. The snake-thing, bulging neon ‘eye’ back in place, was now wriggling towards the vehicle again. A tiny jolt of fear shot through him. He’d assumed it wouldn’t pay attention to the unconscious driver since they weren’t moving and want, instead, to return to its 'parent body'. Had something changed in the way Plasmus and his goop-pieces functioned?

Beast Boy huffed, clenching his hands and bolting forward. “ **HEY!!!** ”

When it ignored him, he ducked mid-stride. The world twisted slightly as he morphed into a ram, sound and sight and smell flicking null for half a second. As soon as his hooves hit the pavement, he tore down the street. His beeline was shorter than the snake’s twisting path, and he reached the armored car at almost the same time it did. He bashed into the snake with full force, digging his hooves into the cement to stop himself as it flew through the air with a shriek. He shifted back, shaking his head. The heat was on his scalp, now, trickling through his hair and down the backs of his ears. It was an unsettling sensation, and he trembled.

“ _Ugh--_ ” he groaned, grimacing and reaching to touch his head, “--that was--”

He froze, left ear snapping upwards.

_Danger._

_Here._

_It sees. Knows._

_Trap._

A terrible, liquidy sound was coming from within the back of the armored car. A second or two passed before cold realization iced over his stomach, and he forced himself to turn his head. The holding area of the vehicle--melted doors and back walls still smoking faintly from acid burns--was open. He could see inside, easily. And he could see that parts of Plasmus that must have smeared, stuck themselves to the walls and ceiling of the car as he’d initially transformed, were now trickling into a singular, pulsing puddle in the center of the vehicle. Beast Boy watched as the murky slime rose, the lower part of the bulge dropping open into the misshapen form of a mouth. A shriek that wasn’t alien, but wasn’t human either, tore forth, and he felt goosebumps prickle up his arms and down his spine in an instant. It was so sharp and bitter and angry that even his teeth ached with it. He felt paralyzed, senses almost numbed.

_Trap._

_Go now._

_Run. Run. RUN._

His right ear twitched. The snake was coming back, too. The driver was still in the car. They could be seriously hurt. He could be running out of time. He couldn't feel his legs. His mind swam. His senses tangled, scrambled. He hardly noticed that the creature in the car had sprung for him, gaping jaw unhinged.

Then, he felt it. So fast that his brain couldn’t put together which sensation happened first. It was abrupt, but light, like a stray breeze ghosting his skin. A warm touch on his sides, back. The world blurred for half a second. It spun. He felt dizzy, dazed, just for a moment. His body lurched to the side a bit, but he caught himself, muscles tense with surprise and confusion. It took a second to realize that the grunt he’d heard had come from his own throat, and another second passed before he noticed that he was now maybe forty feet from where he’d previously been standing. All in plenty of time to watch the creature drop through the now empty air, splatting stupidly onto the pavement. He stared, dumbfounded, as it tried to rebuild itself.

“You know animals better than I do, B, but I somehow doubt ‘deer in headlights’ is an effective move. Ever.”

Beast Boy spun. Standing beside and just slightly behind him was a man in a bright red suit, signature lightning bolt zig-zagging across the center of his chest. He was grinning, brows visibly raised despite his cowl. The glint in his eyes was teasing but still gentle. Beast Boy blinked at him, brain struggling to catch up. Something swelled in his chest, and all at once he visibly brightened, throwing his arms open as excitement suddenly filled his body. “Flash?!? What’re you doing here?!”

Flash’s grin widened. “Word got to Central that Beast Boy was back in Jump City,” he explained, planting his hands on his hips. “Popped by to say ‘hi,’ but it looks like my timing might’ve been a bit on the bad side.”

“Are you kidding? More like the perfect side!” Beast Boy dropped his arms, then gestured pointedly towards the snake and creature who were now melding together. “You just saved me, like, ten showers and a bath. And soaking in tomato sauce for an hour. And then another shower.”

Flash laughed, tilting his head. “If you say so.”

A crash snapped their attention down the street. Starfire and Raven had fired a massive stream of energy into Plasmus’ form just as Jinx hexed his legs. The monster shrieked and dropped to the ground, ‘melting’ for only a moment before beginning to reform. The newly combined snake and creature was slithering towards the battle, finally seeming drawn towards the movement, noise, and chaos.

Flash and Beast Boy exchanged a brief glance before starting forward.

“So. Any advice on how to fight this guy?” Flash asked.

“We gotta get him to fall back asleep… or, at least, knock him out,” Beast Boy answered.

“I’m guessing punching is a bad idea.”

“If you like your hands." He grimaced, raising and wiggling his fingers, so the grime webbed between them. Flash made a face that was somewhere between grossed out and apologetic.

Beast Boy paused, then stopped walking and held out his arm so Flash stopped, too. He pointed to the crash. “--dude, there’s a driver in the armored car over there. I was trying to get them out. They need to get to a hospital or something ASAP.”

Flash’s eyes widened a little as he followed Beast Boy’s finger to the vehicle before they narrowed again, and he nodded. He hesitated, looking at Beast Boy. “You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Beast Boy said, smiling. It grew sheepish. “I, uh… had a dumb moment earlier, but I’ll be back with the pack in a jiffy. You know us; we’ve got each other’s backs. --Besides, you’ll be back in _aaaa_ …”

He trailed off purposely, opening his hands and waving them vaguely at Flash in a _finish the sentence_ gesture. The speedster smirked knowingly.

“You’re worse than I am.”

“Old news, dude.”

Flash winked and, all at once, he was gone. Beast Boy blinked, turning his head a bit to spot him now standing beside the armored vehicle and vibrating a hand through the driver’s side door. The busted lock came undone, and the door swung open, Flash quickly leaning inside. Beast Boy nodded to himself, and he turned to dart down the road.

He reached the group just as Plasmus began to spew acid from his mouth. The bright green liquid shot towards Raven and Cyborg, but the former cast a shield in time to redirect the flow around them. It let out a deafening hiss at it began to melt the pavement. The smell of tar leaked into the air. Beast Boy winced inwardly, searching the street and spotting Jinx. She was snarling and cursing, trying to kick murky slime off her legs. _Dude, have I been there._

“Jinx!!” He shouted. She looked up, eyes flaring. “Pull the rug out from under ‘im!”

“With pleasure,” she hissed. She wheeled, drawing her hands back as pink energy fizzed between her fingers. A hex shot from her palms and flashed against the cement just under Plasmus’ feet. There was a half-second’s pause before it suddenly crumbled under his weight.

At the same time Jinx had turned, he’d thrown himself into the air. The world flickered, then sharpened in color, in shape, in movement as he took on the form of a falcon. Gar rose as the hex hit the pavement. And, just as he’d heard the crack of the cement, he dove into a flip and changed form again. The massive club on the end of his ankylosaurus tail struck Plasmus in the head as he began to fall backward. Despite that the enemy was made of goo, Beast Boy still felt the impact--the jolt in his tail and spine as the hit landed. He hastily changed back to a falcon as he came out of the flip.

Plasmus hit the ground hard. There was a sickening sound as parts of his back splashed into the street. And just as Beast Boy soared over him, an extra ‘arm’ shot out of his stomach. Beast Boy felt a momentary surge of panic as it rushed towards him, but a shower of bright, glowing green orbs tore through it before it had the chance to reach him. Starfire flew to his side, rounding with him to the ground and hovering on his right as he morphed back.

“--that was too close,” he said, sucking in a breath. "Thanks."

She nodded. “The armored car?”

“Just a driver. I tried to get ‘em out, but there was a Slimer in there. Two of ‘em,” he explained quickly, taking a tense step backward as Plasmus’ body began to shift and reform, peeling him from the pavement. “Flash showed up--he’s getting them to a hospital.”

“--Flash is here?” Cyborg shouted across the street, Raven’s shield lowering around them. Beast Boy felt a light gust of wind graze the back of his neck, and the speedster was there.

“At your service!” Flash said. He’d positioned himself in the fourth corner of their ‘square,’ with Cyborg and Raven on his left, Beast Boy and Starfire to his right and Jinx on his diagonal. “How can I help?”

Plasmus pushed to his newly made feet, lips prying apart and teeth bared in a furious snarl. The neon boils--eyes??--bubbled, beginning to surface even down to his arms. The sight, combined with the revolting smell, made Beast Boy’s stomach turn. He swallowed hard, exhaling through his mouth. _If he tries to grab me again, I’m gonna puke all over him._

“I think this just got a whole lot easier,” Cyborg said, his canon letting out a mechanical purr as it powered down, shifting back into an arm. Jinx smirked despite Plasmus’ screeching.

“Doesn’t it always?”

Flash grinned at her.

“Everyone--get to the far end of the street!!” Cyborg yelled, pointing down the road behind him. Beast Boy started to duck but Starfire gently took him under his arms. He let her pull him into the air, tucking his legs under him as they dashed by Plasmus. Flash zipped around the monster, scooping Jinx off her feet and carrying her past Cyborg and Raven to the road’s center. Beast Boy’s ears caught his voice as he’d muttered a quick ‘pardon me,’ and Jinx had squeaked.

Starfire curved in the air, placing Beast Boy delicately on the ground as she lowered. He glanced at Cyborg as he dropped his arms and watched his friend slide to a stop just a few feet in front of him. Raven landed at his side.

“Flash,” Cyborg started, keeping his eyes locked on Plasmus as the creature shrieked at them and began storming in their direction. “Can you trap him in a twister or some kinda vortex? Suck the oxygen outta the air?”

Flash nodded. “Yeah, but like any tornado, it’s gonna have suction. A lot of it.”

“That’s okay!” Cyborg nodded back. “Rae’ll take care of that. Just keep it up for enough time to knock him out!”

Beast Boy saw Raven flex her fingers in the corners of his eyes but kept his attention fixed on the enemy who was rapidly closing the gap between them. Flash gave Cyborg a brief thumbs-up before shooting down the street. Raven crossed her arms in front of her, palms vertical and flat against the air.

“Azarath, metrion, **ZINTHOS!!** ”

She threw her arms to her sides on the final word, and black energy flooded the street. It encased his shoes, his legs up to his knees, doing the same to Cyborg, Jinx and Starfire. It felt cold. The temperature seeped through the fabric of his uniform, trickled into his shoes like icy rainwater. He shivered, rolling his shoulders back and internally telling his extra sense to get a grip. The moment they were anchored to the street, the wind picked up.

It formed in seconds. Flash became a red blur as he raced circles around Plasmus’ feet, pulling the air with him. The small trees decorating the sidewalk began to shiver and bend. The shop windows rattled. Had Raven not anchored the cars, too, he thought they might have started to slide.

Beast Boy watched in partial disgust and partial intrigue as the swirling wind began to peel Plasmus apart. The creature screamed, attempting to escape the vortex but to no avail. He was trapped in its center, at the mercy of the tearing funnel. Beast Boy could feel his body being pulled forward, but Raven's energy held firm. He kept his arms at his sides, squinting through the now raging gusts of air and dirt. He heard Jinx shout over the roar of the wind but couldn’t make out what she’d said.

It was a mess of natural air, city litter and smears of bruised purple, now. Even the rancid scent seemed pulled into the whirlwind; he could smell the new, fresh air as it cut past, and the grass and ocean sprinkled inside it.

The twister lasted maybe a minute before it began to wobble. The blur of red spread out so Flash’s shape could be more easily seen. Then, as quickly as it’d come, the vortex died. A thin, gangly man sank through its center as it withered away and Flash slid to a stop just beneath him. He caught the sleeping man as he dropped the last couple inches.

Raven flicked her hands, letting them flatten parallel to her wrists. The black energy dissolved, fading away like a sun-kissed shadow. They jogged forward as a group, taking care to dodge what splashes of falling goop they could as they made their way to Flash and the now snoring Plasmus.

Flash, splattered with the foul smelling stuff, smiled uncomfortably and began to open his mouth. Starfire all but rocketed to him, clasping a palm over his lips. The rest of them raised a hand and shoved their fingers against their lips in unison, hissing at him.

“ _Shhhhhhh!!!_ ”

* * *

 

Getting Plasmus back into his containment unit was always silent, uncomfortable work. For Beast Boy, anyway. He didn’t like the wordless communication or how slow everyone moved or how delicately everything had to be handled, put in place. It was familiar. All too familiar. He didn’t like thinking about the time in his life when he’d had to move with such caution. He tried to think of other things. But all he could think about were empty hallways and a dark closet with a shadow lurking in the light that crept beneath the crack, or an ill-lit living area and a snoring drunkard with a temper almost as quick as his draw. The fact Plasmus snored, too, did nothing to help.

He only allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief once the containment unit’s seal hissed shut. Plasmus was wheeled into a new armored car, Cyborg assisting the guards with lifting the container and easing it into the back. They all watched as the doors swung closed, and the car drove away. None of them spoke or moved. Out of habit? Caution? He couldn't place it.

Jinx finally huffed loudly, breaking the silence and folding her arms. She threw a glance over her shoulder, eyeing the slime-covered streets and the couple areas where black tar still bubbled from the acid's touch. “Ugh. ...this place is gonna smell like raw sewage for a week.”

Just hearing her voice helped Beast Boy relax. His shoulders slumped as the tension left them.

“It’s weird,” Cyborg muttered, either not having heard her or ignoring the remark. He wasn't looking in the direction the new transport vehicle had left anymore. “There weren’t any other cars involved in that crash, far as I can tell.”

Beast Boy frowned, following Cyborg’s gaze down the street to where some firefighters and police were working to clean up the wreckage. “Yeah.”

“You think Plasmus escaping was what caused the crash?” Raven asked. She slanted her gaze beneath the shadow of her hood, violet eyes flickering with suspicion. Cyborg grunted.

“I’d prefer to think that, yeah. But… that would have to mean his containment unit was faulty--and they run a series of tests on it before they even _think_ about moving him anywhere. Doesn’t add up.”

“So… something _else_ caused the crash, then,” Starfire said lowly, her expression darkening. “Something on the outside? ...or some _one_?”

Cyborg’s frown deepened. “He’s been used as a decoy before.”

“Kinda weird to do that during the day, though--especially as a lot of the public’s getting off work, going out to dinner or just enjoying late afternoon city life,” Flash said, resting his hands on his hips. “What crime would he be a decoy for? Any other alerts come through while we were taking him down?”

Cyborg flipped a panel open on his arm, pressing a few buttons. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Nah.” He flicked his arm, snapping the panel shut again. “It’s quiet.”

“That poor guy,” Flash muttered. His expression grew somber as he looked down at his boots. He glanced at Beast Boy. “And… He knows he does this when he’s awake?”

Beast Boy frowned weakly, nodding. Flash’s eyes saddened, and he looked down the street.

They fell silent for a while once more. Starfire was the first to break it this time.

“Thank you, Flash,” she said, features softening. “We appreciate your arrival and assistance. This may have taken much longer had you not come to our aid.”

Flash smiled a little, nodding his head as he looked at her. “Hey, don’t mention it. You guys know I like to help out when I can.”

“Were your boy scout senses just tingling or something?” Jinx asked, lifting a brow as she cast him a sideways glance. “I assume you have them since you tend to pop outta nowhere right as you’re needed. Suspicious.”

He laughed heartily. “Not this time. Honestly, I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ Back from Watchtower duty, heard Beast Boy was back in town and thought it’d be a good enough excuse to drop by.”

“Good thing you did,” Beast Boy said, shooting him a wide grin. He looked at the others, arms open. “He saved me from getting swallowed earlier.” There was a small pause as his grin shrank and became an odd blend of sheepish and teasing, and he turned back to Flash. “But, uh… now it looks like _you’re_ the one who’s gonna need ten showers and a bath… and a good, long soak in tomato sauce.”

Flash blinked. He looked down at himself, raising his arms a bit when some of the purple goop dripped off his elbow and hit the pavement with a dull splat. The speedster chuckled awkwardly and flicked his hands so more of the slime flew off his arms. Jinx squealed, dancing away from it before it had the chance to hit her. Flash winced a little as she glowered at him. “Oh. ...whoops. Sorry.”

“I’m gonna go check with the police,” Cyborg said, glancing back at them. “See if they found anything unusual at the crash site or around it. Y’all can head back home if y’want. I’ll catch up.”

“I shall stay with you,” Starfire said, pushing into the air. “Your return home will take much longer, otherwise.”

He smiled, nodding to her gratefully, and the two started towards the remains of the armored car and crumbled building. Flash waved a little as they went. Then, he turned to face Beast Boy, grinning.

“So, hey. I was gonna go somewhere special for dinner tonight. You should tag along! It could be a fun ‘welcome back’ kinda thing for the two’ve us since I missed the original.” His grin softened into an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Pfffff.” Beast Boy blew air through his lips, waving a hand dismissively. “No worries, dude. Can’t really be mad at you for saving the world. Kicking butt. Adding more friends to your collection.”

“Those poor people,” Raven muttered, though there was the slightest hint of a teasing tone in her voice. Flash must have caught it because he smirked at her. Jinx rolled her eyes, snorting. She hesitated before eyeing Flash a little.

“Somewhere ‘special,’ huh?”

He shrugged. “You’re always welcome to come along if you like.”

Beast Boy nodded quickly in agreement. “Yeah! ‘Course you are.”

Jinx hummed, considering the offer. After a second or two, she shook her head. “No, thanks. Without goblin-ears, over there, the Tower will be quiet again for an evening.” She sighed. “I took that luxury for granted over the summer.”

“ _Heyyyy,_ ” Beast Boy said. But he was smiling. He shot Flash a glance, the smile widening a little. “Dinner sounds cool! I’ll, uh, need to drop by the Tower, though, and grab my civvies. Don’t wanna show up somewhere with Plasmus-stank all over me. ...the twister-thing pulled most of the slime out of my hair, but I probably still gotta rinse it.”

“We’re gonna need to go by my place, too, anyway,” Flash said with a sheepish laugh. “You can change there while I take twenty super quick showers. Maybe with tomato sauce as a body scrub.” He looked at Jinx and Raven, aiming a single finger-gun at them. “You ladies enjoy a peaceful evening.”

Raven and Jinx glanced at each other, the latter squinting a bit, before turning their steely gazes back on him.

“Shut up and go gorge yourself, already,” Jinx said. “Some poor bastard’s going to have to tell his supplier why he ran out of his whole stock in less than twelve hours.”

“We pity them,” Raven added.

Beast Boy laughed, grinning at her. He almost didn’t notice Flash weaving an arm around his waist. “I feel more sorry for--”

His words were lost to the wind as Flash took off, the world around them tunneling, blurring into nothing but colors and warm air.


	4. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gentle shout-out and thank you to [greenesweater](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greenesweater) for filling me with wonderful allen-west family feels and headcanons throughout the years. -o-/

The trip back to the Tower had been brief. Flash dropped him off inside and went to hang out on the roof while he scurried into his room and grabbed a shirt, pants, shoes and the one hoodie he was pretty confident was clean. He stuffed them in his backpack. A hasty sprint down the hall and he all but dove into the bathroom. The amount of shampoo he squeezed into his palm was beyond generous, and he slopped it into his hair, scrubbing wildly. This might take care of my hands, too, he’d thought, winking an eye closed as a giant glob of shampoo and bubbles slid down the side of his face. Once he was sure he was thoroughly rinsed, he shut the shower off and leaped out, morphing into a dog and giving himself a brisk shake. The towel slung on the rack was mostly dry, and he wiped himself down. He didn’t bother with the hairdryer.

They arrived in Central City in seconds. The ocean view from Titans Tower blurred. He’d blinked as a gust of air swept over him. And all at once they were in a small, mostly bare apartment.

Gar stumbled a little as he stepped away from Flash’s side, letting his backpack swing off his arm, so its strap slid into his hand. Flash tugged his cowl off as Gar turned in a small circle, then twisted to face him again.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been here,” Gar said, grinning. His eyes trailed once more to the room. “Dude, this is pretty sweet!”

“Thanks,” Flash said with a small laugh. He started to reach up and push a bit of his hair out of his face but paused when he caught sight of some remaining purple slime on his fingers. “--oh. Right. …--will you be cool out here while I wash off?”

“‘Course!”

“Awesome. Make yourself at home!” He turned to point down a short hallway. “Bedroom’s on the end so you can change; feel free to chuck your pack anywhere, really.” He gestured in the opposite direction where the kitchen was separated from the living area by a curved counter. “Kitchen’s there, obviously. If you want a snack before we head out, help yourself. I’ll just be a couple minutes! Sorry, there’s not a lot of, uh, furniture to chill on. Just the couch, really.”

Gar chuckled, holding out his arms. “Have I ever been someone who sits like a normal person?”

Flash laughed. “Okay. Point taken. Enjoy the floor, counter, or whatever you can fit on.”

“If I fits, I sits.”

They both laughed this time. Then, all at once, Flash was gone. Gar stood, startled, for a moment, before his ear twitched. The shower in the hallway bathroom had turned on, sputtering a few times before the stream grew consistent and quiet. He snorted at himself, slinging the pack onto his shoulder and moving towards the bedroom.

He swapped out of his uniform and into his civvies, hopping across the room on one foot as he tugged a shoe over his heel. The backpack found a place beside Wally’s couch, and Gar took to exploring. There wasn’t much to explore. Wally was right regarding furniture; there was the bed, the sofa, a medium-sized TV… and that was it, really. But there were a couple stacks of boxes, all varying in sizes (and weight, he assumed), scattered among the rooms. Five years ago, he may have had the indecency to poke the flaps open and peer inside, allowing his natural curiosity to command him as he failed to consider just how invasive his snooping may be. It was a trait both inherited and learned from his parents. His birth parents.

They’d been biologists, geneticists, both at the top of their field and always, always asking questions, seeking answers, puzzling things together whether they were in a workspace or sharing what should have been a casual meal. He could remember sitting somewhere in the room and listening to them, unable to understand what they were talking about but all the same, delighted by their intensity. They worked off each other like a well-oiled machine, and the excitement that filled their words once they thought they’d found an answer or a clue or a step in the right direction was contagious. He remembered watching giraffes in the distance and asking questions, only for his mother to 'answer' him in the form of another question. They weren’t hard, but they did make him think. Made him more curious and eager. He’d learned to crave that thrill of discovery, adventure and the satisfaction that came from solving a problem. Could explain why he treasured games like Zelda or Portal so dearly.

Even now, he could feel that curious itch in the back of his mind as he wandered the small, simple apartment. He resisted the urge to nudge the box flaps open and, instead, settled for a guessing game of what could be tucked inside.

The boxes piled in Wally’s room? Probably clothes. There wasn’t a dresser to put them in, and the closet was still empty (no, he didn’t open it! It was already open). Must still be in the box for storage and stuff. The boxes in the living room were a bit more challenging to decide on. Could be framed pictures, could be odds and ends--things Wally may have used to decorate his old room and hadn’t known where to put them in the new space--or it could be some throw pillows… maybe a blanket or two. From the corner of his eyes, he could see two boxes on the kitchen counter. Plates, glasses, mugs and other kitchen accessories, he reasoned. Easy enough.

He did notice a small stack of what looked like DVDs and games by the TV. These were out in the open. Surely digging through those wouldn’t be seen as nosy.

Gar shuffled across the room and eased onto his knees, smiling to himself as he plucked some cases from the stack. Two of them he didn’t recognize, but by looking at the covers, he guessed they might be action and comedy accordingly. Another, he identified by name: _White Christmas_. Wally must have brought it to ensure he’d have it once the season arrived. Two of the containers didn’t have ‘official’ covers; they were just black DVD cases with a piece of paper slid under the plastic cover. Gar squinted at it. He had trouble with regular, computer-print most days. Whoever’s handwriting this was had been quick and light. It looked like they’d pushed the words together so they’d fit on the vertical length of the DVD case. It took a minute, but he figured it out. _Home videos_. That was cool.

His ear twitched sharply as the bathroom door squeaked, rotating to follow the path of Wally’s steps as he moved into the bedroom. Gar flipped the first game over in his hand, recognizing it instantly. He smirked, chuckling.

“Did you EVER finish this?”

“--What?”

Gar turned despite that the hallway’s corner blocked any chance of Wally seeing him. He held up the game, shaking it for useless emphasis. “Mass Effect! Did you EVER finish the first game?”

“Mmmmm,” Wally droned. “How much are you going to hate me if I say ‘no’?”

“I won’t hate you, but I’ll be sad. Forgiving, but sad.”

“That might be worse.”

“ _Dude_.”

Wally laughed, coming out of the hall as he tugged a bold red hoodie over his shoulders. He bounced them in a shrug, smiling sheepishly. “I, uh. Never got off the Citadel after that first mission.”

Honestly, this wasn’t all that surprising. Not because of how Wally usually played the couple of games he got, but because there were several side-missions and other various forms of mischief to get up to on the Citadel. The first time he’d played the game he’d probably spent well over two hours wandering the place, running errands, seeing all there was to see and talking to every individual the game would allow him to.

Regardless, Gar let his head hang back with an air of drama, sighing. “How am I supposed to gush about the awesomeness of your squad if you don’t have them?”

“Maybe we can play a couple hours sometime,” Wally said, his smile slanting a little. He pocketed his hands in his hoodie. “Then you can witness my reactions to each of them in person. --but, hey, we should probably get going.”

Gar quickly re-piled the DVDs and games, though they definitely weren’t in the order he’d found them. He rolled off his knees and onto his toes, effortlessly springing to a stand. “Where’re we going? --And it’s my treat. Vic already argued me into letting him pay for the other night, and that took, like, an hour, so I’m putting my foot down now that all you’re allowed to do is help with the tip.”

Wally blinked at him. Then, his smile widened. “Gar, you don’t have to treat me.”

“I know, but I want to--”

“--no, I mean: we don’t have to pay for anything.”

Gar stared, confused. Wally thumbed over his shoulder.

“Aunt Iris invited me over for dinner tonight since I’ve been outta town for a while. I asked her if I could bring a friend along and I think that might’ve excited her a bit. ...that okay?”

Okay? It was more than okay, it was… kind of touching, actually. He couldn’t place why. Just that it reminded him of the first time Vic had invited him over to his dad’s place, his grandparents’ place. He’d had trouble figuring out why the gesture had meant so much to him, then, too. Maybe because, even before he’d become more aware of boundaries and containing his wild curiosity, he understood that there was something extremely personal to a house. Especially if the house was a safe haven for the people inside. He’d been to Aunt Iris’s house in the past--small trips to grab a snack or a DVD for movie night or a change of clothes for Wally--but this wasn’t just dropping by and chilling for a few minutes. It was dinner. And it was dinner after Wally had been gone for a while, doing things he may never come back from. Those kinds of times were special and meant for family, weren't they? Yet... here they were, inviting him to join them.

“Yeah!” Gar said. He smiled brightly before letting his expression grow a bit more cautious. “But, uh… --are you sure it’s okay? I don’t wanna be there if I’m not supposed to be, or… something.”

Wally’s smile softened, and he tilted his head. “‘Course I’m sure. It’s totally fine, Gar, really. Aunt Iris will be happy to see you, too. It’s a ‘welcome back’ dinner. She’s just as glad to hear you got back to Jump City safely as the rest of us.”

Something in Gar’s chest swelled, spreading past his ribs and warming him. He nodded his head, his smile growing a bit bashful as he shrugged.

“Heh! Okay. Sounds cool.”

“Cool,” Wally echoed. They stood a moment, silent. Wally spoke up again before it had the chance to feel awkward. “--okay. If you’re ready, I’m ready. --I got the smell out, right?”

Gar sniffed the air. He could pick up faint hints of citrus--orange or grapefruit, probably--but… the Plasmus-stank was still there, burning the back of his nose and scraping against his lungs. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, of course, but he could still smell it. But he did prefer to have a nose more sensitive than most. Maybe it was just him.

“I think you’re good,” he said, nodding. Wally huffed a breath of relief, laughing a little.

“Thank goodness. I was starting to worry I really was going to have to break out some tomato sauce.”

They slid out of the apartment, Gar glancing over his shoulder as Wally locked the door. His gaze settled on a door number a couple steps down the hall.

Imogene’s apartment.

It was quiet, so… either she wasn’t home, or she might be napping. Or she could be working on a cosplay and be in that rare mode where focus finally overtook her, and she’d forget to do anything but piece fabric and props together for hours. He wondered if he should try knocking on her door, anyway. Surprise her by actually visiting her in person.

“Ready to go?” Wally asked, stepping back. Gar’s ear swiveled towards him before he turned his head. He smiled, nodding but also holding up a finger.

“Hang on--I owe Gene a ‘hello.’ It’ll just be a sec.”

Wally’s smile widened, and he gestured at the door down the hall with a slight bow. Gar smirked, nodding again, and he jogged the short distance to Imogene’s door. He gave the surface a few brisk knocks, swaying on his heels as he waited about five seconds before knocking again. This was the usual routine. Especially if Imogene was deep into a project. Sure enough, his ears caught a frustrated blend of a groan and a growl from within the apartment. He smiled, pocketing his hands as her feet stormed towards the door. There came a light click from the lock, and the door swung open.

She stood firm in the doorway despite that she was a full five inches shorter than he was. Her black hair was pulled up in two, tight ‘pigtail’ top-buns, and she wore a black and white striped crop-top with pink gym shorts. Her expression had flattened into one of fraudulent content (for the sake of whoever she found at her door), but it rapidly spread into genuine excitement the moment she recognized him. And he realized, all too late, the mistake he’d made: he’d left his earplugs in his backpack.

“ _OH_. My. **_GOOOOOOOD_**.” Her voice all but exploded from her, booming with a volume that shouldn't be possible to produce from such a small vessel, and he barely managed to keep himself from recoiling away. She was on him in a blink, arms thrown over his neck and everything else hitting him with enough force to offset his balance. He grunted as he caught himself, cringing a little when she released another delighted squeal. “I _MISSED_ YOU, YOU **JERK**.”

“Gene.” He could see Wally approaching them with a raised, cautionary hand from the corner of his eye. Gar smiled quickly, slinging his arms around her to return the hug. Despite the high-pitched ring in his ears and head, he was, honestly, super glad to see her in person again.

“I missed you, too!” He said, finding himself laughing a little. “--Hey, I’m really sorry about forgetting to text you when I got back to Jump City. We cool?”

Imogene pulled herself back, so her arms remained propped on his shoulders but he could see her face. She pursed her lips, face scrunching into an expression of exaggerated thought. “Did you bring an offering for Queen Serenity?”

His smile grew sheepish, and he chuckled. “Uh… not today.”

“Then you’re cursed to an afternoon of anime and one horror game,” she said. “Our subscribers--much as they _love_ my ragequits--have missed you, too. I think some of them are convinced I killed you after you flailed like a bitch and threw my mouse across the room.”

“I posted a video in, like, mid-July.”

She laughed, smirking. “A five-minute video of you playing some shitty knock-off of Flappy Bird and singing All-Star doesn’t count.”

One of his ears rose while the other flattened out. “Why not? I was alive.”

“Because you didn’t bring me an offering.”

Gar shook his head, giving his eyes a roll as he huffed a faint 'ugh!'. He reached up to gently place his hands on either of her shoulders, beginning to nudge her away. “Okay, well. I just wanted t'say 'hi' and apologize. Wally and I are outta here.”

She let out a small scoff, pulling apart and sliding backward until she was in her doorway again. Imogene gripped the side of her door as though she were about to slam it shut in his face, then she propped a hand on her hip. She stared at him for a moment. Then at Wally. Then she looked back to him.

"A new moon scepter. I broke the last one kicking righteous ass."

And _then_ she, lightly, slammed the door in his face.

He stared at the room number for a moment before chuckling and stepping away. Wally, hands in pockets, smiled and popped his shoulders in a shrug. “That went… well?”

“Remind me to scour the internet for some nifty Sailor Moon related staff thing after dinner,” Gar said, grinning a little. Wally gave him a thumbs up before they headed to the stairwell.

They waited until they’d left the apartment complex and got a small ways down the street before ducking down an alley and entering ‘warp speed.’ Gar blinked, and all at once they were out of the city’s heart and in a small suburban neighborhood. Or, rather, Wally had stopped just a few yards outside of it.

The city sounds had drained away, replaced by the soft squeal of children, a garage radio and evening birdsong. The neighborhood houses were plain but warm, with just enough decoration and personality to keep them from looking totally unified. It was a challenging sensation to describe, but, from just looking at the place, Gar felt a strong sense of community. Like, if someone’s fridge stopped working they might easily find someone in the neighborhood who could help them fix it in exchange for nothing but maybe a slice of homemade pie or borrowing a tool from the shed. From where they’d stopped, he could see a mother and son in their driveway with a small toddler sat in the yard. The son was learning to ride a bike without his training wheels, his eyes wide with excitement and the tiniest bit of fear. Across the street was the host of the music: an open garage with a family sitting in a circle of chairs. They were chatting and eating a bar-b-q dinner on large paper plates. He could hear their laughter, smell the rich scent of sauces and spices, easily from here.

Gar took a moment to shake his head before following Wally out from behind the large tree, widening his stride enough to reach the speedster’s side.

“Sooooo,” he started, turning his eyes up at him and bouncing his brows. “Do we know what’s for dinner?”

Wally hummed. He shrugged his shoulders, reaching up to smooth some wild strands of hair out of his eyes. “I’m guessing some kind of awesome stir-fry. --Vegetarian-friendly, of course. And baked potatoes.”

Gar inhaled deeply through his nose, raising a balled fist and shaking it in the air. “ _Score_.”

Wally laughed.

They reached Iris’s house, Wally jogging the last few steps down the sidewalk up to the porch. He gave the door a couple brisk knocks, rocking from his heels to his toes and back again. Gar could feel the excitement all but radiate from him, and it stirred a conflicting blend of happiness and… envy… in his stomach.

How cool would it be to feel joy when returning to the people you called your parents? To know the people, the person, waiting on the other side of that door would greet you with open, warm arms, unconditionally proud and loving. To not scramble for the right words or some accomplishment to give, or an expectation you met. To know you'd be accepted as you were.

He pushed the envy down and away, inwardly cursing himself for having allowed it to be felt at all. Wally had escaped a house that hadn’t thought to offer those things, that had wounded in more ways than one, thanks to Barry and Iris. Gar was happy for him--genuinely--that he'd grown with a family who cherished him. Happier than he could put into words even if he were good with verbal expression. ...and he was also grateful Wally wasn’t an empath at that moment.

Wasn’t envy supposed to be a little green monster or something? Heh... How fitting.

He smirked weakly to himself, but it dropped as his ears lifted. Quick footsteps were moving towards the door, followed by a faint muttering. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Iris beamed, letting out a small but joyous laugh as Wally threw his arms open. They embraced, Iris’s arms wrapping tightly around him, so one hand cupped the back of his head. Gar smiled before glancing down the street in an attempt to give them some sort of privacy. He could hear the faint rhythm of music from somewhere in the house; oldies, he guessed. It was the only sound for a couple seconds before Iris spoke.

“Welcome home,” she said, leaning back just enough to kiss Wally’s temple and pat his shoulder. He smiled, full and warm, as a new sort of affection came into his eyes.

“Thanks, Aunt Iris. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She paused, turning her head. Gar smiled almost bashfully as she spotted him, lifting a hand in a tiny wave. Her expression softened as she stepped to the side and stretched an arm to take his shoulder, pulling him into a hug as well. “It’s good to see you, too, Garfield.”

Without thinking, Gar wrapped an arm around her and tightly returned the hug. He was quick to loosen his arm as soon as she did, taking a small step back to grin up at her. “Right back atcha, Aunt Iris. --Thanks for having me over. I hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” she chuckled, planting a hand on his head to gently ruffle his hair. His grin widened, and he shook his head. Iris planted her hands on her hips and opened her mouth, but paused. They watched as her nose scrunched a little bit, and she slanted her eyes towards Wally. “...”

Wally blinked at her before his eyes widened in a moment of realization. He looked at Gar. Gar glanced between them, his grin shrinking into a sheepish smile.

“--Uh. I … --I thought the only reason I could still smell it was ‘cause of my nose,” he said. “Heheh… Sorry.”

“So, I’m not imagining that,” Iris said, eyeing them. They shook their heads. “What _is_ it?”

“I’ll tell you after dinner, Aunt Iris,” Wally said, chuckling. “Emphasis on _after_. We might lose our appetites, otherwise.” His smile widened to a grin when she turned to him, brows raised. “... _two_ of us might, anyway. --Mind if I borrow your shower?”

“Only if Gar doesn’t mind helping me in the meantime.” Iris smiled at Gar, nodding once. “There’s not much left to do, but I could always use an extra set of hands.”

Gar grinned, holding up his palms and waggling his brows. “My lady, I can give you _four_ sets of ‘hands’ if you need’em.”

Iris’s expression flattened, and her brows arched. “I’d prefer we stuck to the ‘no octopuses on the counter’ rule for now. But thank you.”

Gar flicked his wrists so his fingers closed and his thumbs popped up in a 'you got it' gesture.

They moved into the house and, the moment Iris shut the door, Wally zipped out of sight. Gar’s left ear rose as he caught a faint hiss of a shower. He followed Iris quietly down the entryway, wedging his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he let his eyes wander the visible spaces.

He remembered a ‘mission’ they’d been on maybe a year ago. Vic, Kori, and Ajaya had grouped to check one area of the city for an escaped creature while he and Rachel had taken to another. The logic, here, paired the two with the high sensory perception. It’d worked, despite the usual clash of personalities and powers between the two, and they’d found the monster in a matter of hours. But this wasn’t why he remembered it. He remembered because, as he and Rachel had entered a house at the end of the neighborhood, he’d heard her mutter something about it having a strong threshold and the family would be safe. It’d piqued his curiosity (because of course it had) and he’d painstakingly waited until everything was over and done to ask her what she’d been talking about.

“You know the old lore that vampires can’t enter homes without invitation?” She’d asked, and he had nodded. “That’s because of the home’s threshold. It’s a barrier, created by the energy of a dwelling space. The strength varies with how it’s inhabited. Homes with strong emotions, with history, with family, worked into the wood have strong thresholds. Theirs would have protected them… I could feel it.”

Now, as he followed Iris further into her home, he liked to think he could feel it, too.

The house had a warmth to it. He couldn’t think of a time he hadn’t felt welcomed, whether Barry or Iris or even Wally had been home or not. The house, itself, was inviting. It carried this sense of nostalgia with it, despite that he didn’t have any memories here to be nostalgic about. Just that it felt like returning to a place you knew was safe. A place you knew you could laugh and eat and sleep without a second’s thought or moment's worry.

But under that layer of warmth, of nostalgia, of love, he could feel something else. Something faint and lingering.

Sadness… loneliness… grief.

It was small and gentle, like a light draft. Not enough to chill or discomfort but just enough to notice stirring the air, prickling the skin on your ankles and wrists. Gar bit his lip, looking up to watch the back of Iris’s head as they walked, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. Their company must be soothing to her in more ways than one. The music he’d noticed earlier--that he could hear, now, was coming from the kitchen--must be one of her means of keeping the home alive.

“--So, Wally mentioned stir-fry and potatoes?” He said, suddenly, attempting to break the silence. He’d smelled the stir-fry the moment he’d walked through the door, but asking about it seemed a better way to start a conversation than just commenting on the scent. Iris glanced over her shoulder, slowing her stride as they rounded the living room and entered the kitchen. She reached across the counter, lowering the volume on a small radio.

“He’d be correct,” she said, gesturing at the stove. “Stir-fry’s almost ready. Potatoes should be a couple more minutes in the oven. --Do you know where the utensils and plates are?”

“Think so!”

He broke away and beelined to the cabinets and drawers on the other side of the small kitchen island.

The first drawer was a no-go; looked like a place to keep coupons for pizza, notepads with phone numbers and a couple spare pencils and pens. He tried the next one down but found a bunch of cords and extra light bulbs. Couple batteries were nudged in the back, too. Gar bumped the drawer closed and tried the next one. Turns out the third time was a charm, and the utensils rattled softly as the drawer slid open. He smiled. They were already separated by type thanks to grooves in the wood, and he plucked three forks and knives from the groups. He guessed that if the utensils were here, plates and other dishware must be nearby. And, as he opened the cabinets just above the drawer, he was satisfied to find this assumption correct.

“Does it matter where on the table I put ‘em?” He asked, selecting three large plastic plates from the stack.

“Oh! I thought we’d sit in the living room,” Iris said. The stir-fry was sizzling and he could hear the light scrape of a wooden spoon on the pan; she must be blending it. “If you could just bring them over here, instead.”

He did.

As he lightly nudged the plates onto the counter, he took in a deep breath through his nose, drinking in the scents of carrots, snow peas, and light hints of garlic and ginger. He was just about to comment on how amazing it all smelled when Wally beat him to the punch.

“You’re torturing me, Aunt Iris.” He walked into the kitchen, ruffling a towel through his still damp hair. When he peaked through the fabric and grinned, Gar felt himself grin back. “I could smell everything from the bathroom.”

“I just hope I made enough,” Iris muttered, sending Wally a playful little glance. His grin grew sheepish as he pulled the towel off his head, combing his hair back with his fingers.

The oven dinged and Wally zipped to it, a mitt suddenly in hand as he pulled the door open and fished the foil-covered potatoes out. Gar passed the plates to Iris, sliding to the fridge to retrieve potato toppings. He found sour cream, shredded cheese and some chives that had already been diced to just the right size. _Awesome_.

They filled their potatoes and forked large portions of the stir-fry onto their plates before Iris herded them to the living room. Gar flopped onto the ottoman by a large chair; Iris took a seat on the couch beside Wally. For a couple minutes, they ate in silence. Gar’s ears lifted, and he turned his attention to Wally.

“Ajaya said you’re still taking forensics classes?” He asked, poking a couple stray chives back into his potato. “What’s that like?”

“--Mm!!” Wally pressed his knuckles to his mouth, quickly swallowing the large bite of stir-fry he’d just stuffed into it. He cleared his throat, lowering his hand and smiling. “It’s pretty amazing, actually. And it’s a lot to take in. We’re covering a lot of stuff… uuh… --it’s really hard to explain, so I guess the best way to condense it would be ‘case history’ and… the whole concept that what you don’t see can be just as important as what you do see.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got your mind set on a group,” Iris said. One of Gar’s ears raised just a hair more.

“A group?”

“--uh, forensics is usually broken into three main groups: pathologists, scientists, and associated scientists,” Wally said, mixing some of his stir-fry into his potato. “Pathologists are the medical guys who oversee intense stuff like autopsies.”

“ _Ugh_.” Gar shivered a little. “No, thanks. …--wait, are you--?”

“No! Haha, no, uh.” Wally’s smile shrank, and he kept his eyes on his plate as he shrugged one shoulder. “That stuff’s a little too… I dunno. It’s not for me. I think I’d get sad, y’know? They were…”

He trailed off. Gar quickly looked down but not before seeing Iris reach out and touch Wally’s upper arm. He twiddled with the fork between his fingers, chiding himself for having asked in the first place. He should have known better. But, surprising to none, his tongue still worked faster than his mind. He didn't want to treat Wally delicately--he hated that kind of treatment towards himself, as it were--but he knew he had a history of being insensitive even when he didn't mean to be. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Wally's feelings or... dig up an emotion that was preferred forgotten. Ugh... why was he so stupid?

Iris said something but, though his ears rose to listen, he didn’t hear or make sense of the words. His eyes trailed from the contents of his plate to the rug, following the arcs and twists of the unique design stitched into it. They lead him to the fireplace, the breaks and grooves in the stone guiding his eye up to its mantle. Framed pictures decorated the length of it, some taller, some wider than others. Barry was in several of them. In one or two, he and Iris both looked younger--his and Wally’s age, even. Aside from those, Wally was in almost every frame, some in his young teens, some as he must have ventured his way through high school. Most looked like they’d been taken around the house, but a few were outside of Central. Vacation spot? Camping trip? He guessed it didn’t matter.

“Which one’s caught your eye?”

He could have jumped, somehow managing to suppress the reflex, as he whirled his attention back to Iris and Wally. Iris had been the one to speak, her smile warm and gentle. And despite how inviting she appeared, Gar couldn’t help but worry he had somehow managed to be invasive or overstepped some kind of boundary. All despite just, not seconds ago, kicking himself for possibly having upset Wally. He opened his mouth, looking from them back to the mantle. A response fumbled on his tongue.

“Uhhh. …--the… the one with the pancake?” He answered, using his fork to point in its general direction. It was only now that his eyes actually locked onto it, registering more details within the frame. Wally looked young. Like he might not be a teenager yet. He was holding up a pancake that had a face cut out of it, sitting criss-cross somewhere in the living room. Barry was sitting not far behind him, trying to smile despite that he was apparently laughing. Gar felt his throat tighten a bit, hoping he hadn’t just made the discussion worse somehow. But, as he turned his head back to them, Iris let out a soft laugh. Wally grinned widely, ducking his head.

“That’s not even the best picture we got that morning,” Iris said. Now Wally laughed, his grin growing almost bashful as he looked. Iris, a sly smile on her lips, began to push to her feet. Wally swiped at the air beside her, purposely missing her arm each time.

“Aunt Iris, noooo.”

She rounded the couch, moving to a small series of shelves at the mouth of the back hall’s entrance. Iris plucked what could only be a photo album from the space, not even needing to peek inside to make sure she’d retrieved the right one, and returned to her seat. Wally reached across the coffee table to slide their plates to the far end, gesturing at Gar to join them. Gar eased off the ottoman, setting his plate on the floor beside it as he ‘walked’ the small distance to the coffee table on his knees. Iris was already flipping through the pages of the album, muttering fondly to herself.

Gar propped his elbows on the coffee table, folding his arms against the edge. It was… a nice feeling he had as he watched the photo-filled pages turn. Silly, ridiculous and strange as it sounded, he hadn’t seen a lot of photo albums in his life. Not ones with pictures and history in them, anyway. There’d been a couple times he’d pulled a fresh one from a store shelf and turned it over in his hands. He'd mull it over, shrug and pop it back into place, moving on to the next thing to catch his attention. It hadn’t seemed like much of anything special, then. Just two covers holding a bunch of empty pages and a strong scent of plastic and adhesive. But watching the pages of this one turn, catching glimpses of photos from days past, watching Iris’s eyes light a little as she paused every couple seconds, he realized there was something important, here. Something no other album could possibly contain.

Iris stopped turning the pages, sitting back as she gestured to a set of photos with an open hand. Gar leaned forward, and his jaw dropped just as Wally started to laugh anew.

The photos were in a zig-zag sort of chronological order, starting with the preteen Wally holding up his pancake with a face bitten into it. The next picture had him placing the pancake over his own face, followed by a third where he had flung his arms over his head and must have sprawled out on the living room floor. The series ended with a photo of him holding the entire bottle of syrup at an angle over his head, seeming to pour it into his pancake mouth.

Gar stared at the photos for a long moment before letting out a loud laugh. He grinned, looking up at them and speaking through bursts of air. “What?--Even?”

“It’s the legendary PANCAKE MAAAAN,” Wally declared, holding up his hands as his voice raised. “Protector of breakfast foods! Defender of brunch! And… “ He trailed off, squinting as the corners of his mouth twitched. “... What was the last thing, Aunt Iris?”

“Enemy to those who _sully_ the name of innocents who enjoy breakfast for dinner,” she answered in a narrator-esque tone. Gar and Wally laughed.

“Aw, _man_ ,” Gar said, cackling a little as he touched the photo album and carefully raised one of the pages. “This is so awesome! I haven’t seen a lot of photo albums--especially ones with pictures in ‘em. How far do they go back?”

He looked up. Wally and Iris were still smiling, but he could see something had shifted in their eyes. Something he couldn’t exactly place, but… at the same time, it felt familiar. Wally glanced at Iris, and she leaned forward to rest her fingers on the album again.

“I think I started this album not long after we adopted Wally,” she said. Gar saw her smile soften. He heard it in her voice, too. “I’ve always thought documentation was important… whether it’s journaling, photo albums or something entirely your own. It might feel a little awkward or silly in the moment but, years later, there’s something special about being able to look back on it. Remember it by how it moved you.”

She didn’t look up from the pages, but her hand moved to rest on Wally’s shoulder. Gar glanced at them before looking back at the album pages. He didn't see them, though; his mind drifted elsewhere, turning over memories lost to time.

Iris brought him back to earth as she reached for his plate, and he quickly passed it to her with a muttered thanks. Wally handed his plate over as well, not speaking as his brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. Gar tried to catch his eye, tilting his head a little and raising an ear in hopes the gesture would be enough to get Wally’s attention. It wasn’t. The redhead continued to tap his thumb-tips together for a moment. Then, he looked up with a small, slanted simper.

“Hey, Aunt Iris,” he said. “Do you think that knick-knack store across from the pharmacy will have one?”

Gar blinked, both ears twitching upward now. “One what?”

“Mmm,” Iris hummed, taking care to stack the plates so they wouldn’t tilt or spill what little contents remained on them. “You _might_ find a nice used one there, yes.”

“A used _what?_ ” Gar asked, straightening.

“Expensive?” Wally pressed. Iris poked out her bottom lip, her head tipping as she shrugged.

“A little pricey, but nothing extreme, I’d imagine.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“They should still be open, right?” Wally asked, his smile widening.

“You might want to leave soon,” Iris answered. “I don’t know the hours off the top of my head.”

“Okay,” Gar said, his voice and expression flat. “If no one answers me, I’m gonna turn into a sea lion and start screaming.”

Iris shot him a look, mirroring his expression. " _Do not_."

Wally let out a laugh, dropping his hands to his knees and pushing to his feet. Gar rocked onto his toes, straightening to stand in a fluid motion. He quickly followed Wally as he rounded the couch, reaching to take the plates from Iris’s hands once she neared the kitchen.

“I’ll clean up, Aunt Iris,” he said. But she shook her head, holding the dishware just out of his reach.

“No, no,” she said. “You boys need to get to the knick-knack store before it closes.”

Wally’s smile weakened a little. “It’ll only take me a few seconds.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you both not take your chances. Besides, it’ll give me something to do in the meantime. Now go; before Gar keeps to his word and the neighbors file a noise complaint.”

She smiled, winking at him, then ducked into the kitchen. Gar frowned as he stepped to Wally’s side. He hesitated before shifting his gaze just enough to peer up at him. Wally stared into the kitchen, a worried look etched into his brow and the spaces just beneath his eyes. The corner of his lip wrinkled a little as he gnawed at it.

_Say something,_ Gar thought, and he opened his mouth before he could reconsider.

“I could always mix it up and do a maned wolf… give everyone on the block a right _spook_ with a growl-bark.”

Wally looked down at him and blinked. “A what?”

“It’s…--you know? Nevermind.” Gar forced a wide smile, reaching out to lightly cuff Wally’s upper arm. “I’ll show you later. We gotta get to wherever this is before it closes or something?”

“Yeah,” Wally said, nodding as his smile gradually returned. He shifted to stride towards the front door, leaning enough to wave into the kitchen as he went. “Be back in a bit, Aunt Iris! I’ve got my phone. Call if you want us to pick something up on the way back!”

“Will do!” She said. And they stepped through the hall towards the front door.

* * *

 

Once they’d walked a short distance outside the neighborhood, Wally ran them back into the city. He stopped midway through an alley and released Gar from his side, smirking as the shifter took a moment to catch his balance. Gar huffed, stumbling a step or two before shoving his hands into his pockets and twirling on his heel, so he walked backward and faced Wally.

“Alright,” he started, a brow arched and one ear lifted just slightly more than the other. “Where are we going? What ‘used’ thing are we getting? And what’s the secret to life, the universe, and everything?”

Wally’s smirk spread. “A knick-knack store. You’ll see when we get there. Forty-two.”

“I got that much. That doesn’t tell me anything. Good reference catch.”

“Thanks.”

“ _Dude!_ ” Gar let out a small sound, watching as Wally slid past him and started down the sidewalk. He tugged his hands loose from his pockets and jogged a few steps to reach his friend’s side again, ears flattening out as he craned his head in attempt to make eye contact. “C’mon! Just. Give me a hint? A clue? _Something??_ ”

Wally hummed, but he didn’t shift his gaze downwards. Gar squinted at him. He considered breaking into his usual routine: asking 100 questions a minute to the point it might get so obnoxious he’d either get an answer or be thrown in the nearest dumpster (results varied on whose company he was in). He doubted Wally would actually toss him anywhere, but he also knew Wally was a guy of incredible patience. By the time he got some kind of information out of him--if he succeeded in doing so at all--they would have already reached their destination. So… that seemed kinda pointless. It was looking like he’d just have to wait it out, tolerate the curiosity itching in the back of his mind and tormenting him every step of the way. Wally had to know what he was doing. The twinkle in his eyes was just a bit too much to be entirely innocent.

Gar sighed, letting his body sag and his head drop back with just enough show to make his frustration transparent. Wally ignored him.

They rounded a corner and moved past a couple more shops before Gar spotted the pharmacy across the street. He felt his heart leap and snapped his head around, searching for a window display that might serve as some sort of clue as to what Wally was up to. There wasn’t much. Just a neon ‘OPEN’ sign in the window. He noticed a small bell at the top of the glass door; it jingled faintly as they pushed into the shop to announce their arrival.

He was immediately stirred by a small wave of mixed scents, each cozy, soothing and warm. It didn’t take but a glance to find the source: a large, tiered table of candles stood off to the left of the entrance. He could pick out the distinctive scents of lavender, of cranberry, of Birchwood, and several others. It was just short of being overstimulating, and he could only imagine that the thin carpeting that lined the shop had to be stained with the blended aromas.

The store, itself, was a bit dim; its lights were kept gentle and the evening hours allowed for minimal natural glow. There were several shelves, several tables, filled with all sorts of things. 'Knicks and knacks'… Wally hadn’t been wrong about that. A lot of things he didn’t fully recognize, either. There were a couple shelves with small, hand-sized stuffed animals sporting bright red, heart-shaped tags. They looked soft and well kept, with friendly eyes and careful stitch work. The next couple of shelves held various mantle ornaments and trinkets, some themed around trees while others resembled little angels or creatures. He could hear the delicate tick and tock of old clocks from the back corner of the shop. And, maybe, those were the best objects to describe this place. The candle smells, the weak lighting, the miscellaneous stuff... It felt… ‘old,’ somehow. Or maybe locked within a specific time. He couldn’t decide which felt most appropriate.

Gar wandered forward, one ear twitching instinctively in the direction of the clocks while his eyes took in the shelves of small animals. He didn’t notice Wally had already made his way to the opposite side of the shop until he called him.

“Gar! Over here!”

His ears raised and he turned quickly, locking onto where Wally was waving by a smaller table. As he jogged the short distance, he spotted the shop owner glance at them from the back room and lifted a hand, waving with a grin. Gar slid to a stop beside Wally and looked down as his friend lifted something off the display.

“This is _exactly_ what we came for.”

It was a camera. Not like ones Gar had seen before, though. Phones came with cameras, now, and they were pretty decent ones, too. Cameras, themselves, were usually small, compact and had one solid color aside from the silver where the lens was. You could stick them in your back pocket, no problem.

This one was pretty big--about twice the size of what he was used to seeing. It was mostly black and silver, with a clunky looking lens in the center and maybe four knobs on the top of varying sizes. There was a strap attached to its sides, too, which he assumed could be worn around your neck or even your shoulder if you lengthened it a bit more.

Gar squinted, resisting the urge to reach out and poke the thing. “Uh. A camera?”

“Well... _yeah,_ it’s a camera,” Wally said. He paused, one of his brows raising in honest curiosity. “Do… you know what _kind_ of camera it is, though?”

Gar blinked, his mouth falling partially open. A couple seconds passed before he spoke. “Um. ...a ...black? Camera?”

“ _Yeah,_ but… do you know what _type_ of camera it is?”

“... a big one?”

He could see Wally’s mouth twitching a little. Wally pursed his lips, continuing with a bit of strain in his voice. He was trying not to laugh. “I mean… um. --I don’t know how else to word it, uh.”

“You’ve lost me, dude,” Gar said, his ears dropping so they parallelled the floor. “It’s a big, black camera, I dunno what else there is.”

“Ugh! What I’m trying… --it’s not a _digital_ camera,” Wally finally said, laughing a little at himself as he gestured at the device in his palm. “It’s a film camera! Aunt Iris has had one similar to this since… well, forever, basically. It’s what she uses to take all our family pictures with! Y'know? The ones in the album... on the mantle?”

Gar’s brows wrinkled, and he scrunched his nose. He frowned, opening his mouth a little as he tugged absently at his left ear. “I’m… sorry, Wally, I’m not… --what’s… the difference?”

Wally’s brows rose a bit. “Did… you, uh.” He closed his mouth, and Gar could tell he was trying to find the right words. He guessed the question Wally meant to ask; they both knew it was a frequently taboo subject in their line of ‘work.’ Especially among strangers. But they weren’t strangers. They hadn’t been for some time. Wally’s smile weakened, and his voice lowered so the shopkeeper wouldn’t chance to hear them. “I guess they’re more from our parents’ generation. Film cameras, I mean. ...did you guys have one?”

“I dunno,” Gar said, shrugging with a slight tilt of his head. “I… wasn’t really allowed near the equipment. Expensive stuff, y’know. Kids tend to break things. Or lose them. I’ve got a reputation for both.” He smiled, chuckling cautiously. “So, uh. Yeah. I know they had cameras for research and watchin’ animals and all the fancy stuff they did away from the compound, but. Never for anything that wasn’t work.”

“Oh,” Wally said, nodding. Gar felt tense, ready for some kind of saddened look to follow. But one didn’t. Instead, Wally turned the camera in his hands and held it out to him, his smile widening to a lopsided grin. “Well, this baby’s a bit more… what’s the word? …--complex? Than your day-to-day digital cameras. But that’s what makes it exciting! I’d like to get it for you if you’d be cool with that.”

Gar ‘eeped’ softly as he fumbled the camera into his hands. He eyed it, rotating it gingerly. There didn’t seem to be a screen or display to look at a picture you’d just taken. Didn’t look like there was a menu button on the back, either. Or… a touchpad to scroll through options. It really must be from their parents' generation or something, kinda like VHS tapes. Those things had been on their way out of style around the same time he'd left Africa and returned to the States.

His brow wrinkled, and he tilted his head, tipping the camera as well. A small tag dropped off the strap and brushed against his thumb. His jaw dropped an inch.

“Dude, this… this is, like, _sixty bucks_ ,” he muttered, looking up. Wally shrugged, starting to open his mouth, but Gar continued. “You _just_ got an apartment! A-and you’re taking classes, too.”

“I know,” Wally said, and Gar felt his chest tighten as the redhead's smile began to falter. “I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t pull it off, though, Gar. Honest. I wanna get it for you.”

“ _Why?_ ” Gar asked, incredulous. It came out a bit blunter than he would have liked, and he was quick to back it up despite bumbling with his words. “--it’s not… --I like it, Wally, I just… um… --I guess I don’t get why--I mean, my phone has a camera on it. I don't need one.”

Wally’s smile slanted, and he raised a hand to point a little at the camera. “This is pretty different than a phone camera. Both, uh. In how it feels using it and… the rush, I guess.”

“The rush?” Gar repeated, frowning slightly. Wally’s smile widened.

“I’ll explain later. _If_ you let me get it for you.”

Gar’s eyes narrowed to a squint. Wally was using his own curiosity against him now, the scamp. He drummed his fingers gently against the sides and back of the camera, letting his gaze drop enough to stare down at it.

It’d be an easy purchase coming from his own wallet. The card, tucked away in its back slot with care, had access to more than enough in the bank… all thanks to the inheritance his birth parents had left behind. He didn’t flash it. Quite the opposite, actually. As far as he could tell, almost none of his friends knew he had it. It came out for emergency funds or the occasional anonymous donation to a charity. He preferred to earn his keep like everyone else, picking up a couple hours at the local animal shelter for whatever city he currently made his bed in. It was rewarding, doing things on his own. Knowing that the card was just… there. Weighted, heavy in his back pocket; a shiny golden ticket to ‘easy street.’ It could be a bit uncomfortable.

He rotated the camera, gnawing the inside of his cheek. Then, without really thinking, he blurted:

“Halfsies.”

Wally blinked, brows raising a hair. “Halfsies?”

“Yeah,” Gar said, straightening a little and holding up the camera a bit more. “We’ll split it. --the cost. I was gonna treat you to dinner, anyway, remember?”

“Okay, okay, deal,” Wally said, chuckling softly. “We’ll need to look around for some film, too. I’ll--”

“--Wally--”

“--take care of the film.” His voice was just firm enough to confirm there’d be no negotiation on this one. Gar exhaled through his nose, staring hard at Wally for a couple more seconds before nodding his head. Wally beamed, reaching out to take his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Gar smiled, swallowing a little as the redhead passed him to move towards the shelves on the other side of the table. He felt a warm swell in his chest, and a strange, acute sort of awareness as Wally’s hand drifted away. He fidgeted idly with the camera, letting his thumb flick at the dials, his finger tap the textured sides. He barely noticed himself shamble into place behind Wally, only looking up when his friend let out a satisfied ‘aha!’ and plucked hand-sized box from the shelves.

“Found some. Come on!”

He strode towards the counter before Gar had the chance to open his mouth. With a small grunt, he half-jogged after him, feeling a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The curiosity was beginning to creep back in and, with it, so was excitement. He knew the camera wasn’t _that_ old when you really thought about it. But something still made it feel important in his hands… fragile, too.

Maybe he should stick a tracker on it as soon as he got back to the Tower, just in case his talent for misplacing things kicked in. No way he was gonna let this thing be lost to the void.

They placed the camera and the film on the counter, both fishing their wallets out as the shopkeeper worked the register. Gar was quick to pluck his card free, sliding it across as Wally thumbed a few bills after it.

With the camera paid for, the film carefully removed from its packaging and clicked into the camera’s casing, they trotted out of the shop and back onto the sidewalk. Wally passed Gar the receipt, and he tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping. He forced himself to wait until they’d walked maybe ten steps before opening the floodgates.

“--So this thing doesn’t have a screen,” he started, stating the obvious. “How do we see the pictures we took? Pick which ones we wanna delete or upload or whatever?”

Wally smirked cheekily, pocketing his hands. “You don’t. You have to wait to get them developed.”

“... are you serious?” Gar gaped at him, blinking widely. Wally bounced his brows. “ _What?!_ Then…--then how are we supposed to know if the pictures are any good?”

“That’s part of the fun!” Wally said, laughing. “The anti... _cipation_.”

“And? It has a limited amount of storage? --like, we can only take so many pictures before, uh--?”

“That roll of film should have twenty-four shots on it,” Wally said, lifting a hand to point at the camera. “But, uh, Aunt Iris says that usually there’re, like… one or two ‘extra’ shots, since one camera might load or wind differently than another. So it’s not about ‘storage’ so much as it is… you have roughly twenty-four pictures before you run out of film. Then we’ll take that film to get developed and buy more!”

Gar’s brows furrowed, and he shifted the camera in his hands as he looked down at it. “Huh. That’s really weird.”

“Perfect. It suits you.”

“Hey!” Gar let out a laugh, side-stepping enough to nudge Wally’s side with his elbow. “Alright, alright. You got me there.”

Wally laughed again, carefully reaching around him to take the camera from his hands. “--Hey, let’s break it in! Nab a picture here to mark the moment we got the camera. Or... something.”

“Okay!”

Gar turned on his heel, letting himself rock to a stop as Wally rotated the camera to face the two of them and held it up. Wally ducked a couple inches so he ‘shrank’ to Gar’s height, and Gar leaned in to grin up at the camera lens as he held up two fingers in a ‘peace’ sign. He felt the tip of his left ear brush against Wally’s hair.

“Say ‘cheese pizza’!” Wally said.

“How do we know our heads won’t be cut off?” Gar muttered through his grin.

“A lucky guess.”

“Would it fit on a selfie-stick?”

“ _Cheese pizza_.”

Gar couldn’t hold back the cackle. He heard the camera click behind the sound of his own voice, and he ducked his head just as Wally lowered it and straightened to stand his full height again. His face felt warm and he rubbed at his cheek, giving it a couple idle scratches with the tips of his fingers.

“We wanna get one more in before it gets too dark?” Wally asked, gesturing towards the sky as he turned to face Gar. Gar smiled, shrugging as he flicked his left ear.

“Sure!”

Wally mirrored the smile, casting a quick glance down the street. “Okay! Uuuh…--one of the squares is nearby, and it has this cool fountain in the center! Wanna go there?”

“Iiiis it a Pokestop, too?” Gar asked, allowing his smile to widen. Wally waggled his brows, swinging into step down the sidewalk. Gar bounced into a light jog, slowing again as he reached Wally’s side.

“Dare I assume which team you joined?” Wally asked with an air of drama. Gar hummed.

“Go for it.”

“Trust your instinct?”

“Am I that predictable?”

Wally laughed. “Uh, no; I’d peg you as the polar opposite most days. --but.” He grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he held up a closed fist. “Good to have a fellow team member around. We seem to be the underdogs.”

“Heh!” Gar lightly bumped his fist against Wally’s. “Underestimate us at your own risk. Let’s take Central by surprise one of these days.”

“My thoughts, exactly. --oh!! There it is!”

Wally broke from his side, taking care to glance both ways before darting across the street. Even for moving at a ‘regular human pace’ he was still light and quick on his feet. Gar dodged after him, grinning broadly as they scampered down the sidewalk towards an open square where, sure enough, a large fountain stood in the center.

A handful of people moved through the square, some only glancing at the fountain while others selected a bench to rest on. The spouting water caught the light from surrounding street lamps and shops, making it appear to dance in the steady, clear stream. The fountain, itself, had two tiers. The bottom level spouted constant streams of water, swan-like birds sculpted in its center, while the top’s streams were misty, cooling the air as the two neared. Something in Gar’s stomach twisted, tightened, as the dewy air dusted his face and arms. His fingers twitched at his sides.

“Do you want me to take it?”

Gar turned, realizing Wally was holding the camera up and smiling at him. He grinned back, popping his shoulders in a small shrug before bounding a few steps towards the fountain and whirling to face Wally again. Gar held his hands flat--one ‘above’ the top of the fountain and one ‘below’ its base--as he leaned to the right in an exaggerated pose. With any luck, it'd look like he was presenting the fountain in his own two palms. “Fire away!”

Wally ducked as he lifted the camera to his eye. He was quiet for a second or two. Then, he poked one finger upward. “Stand higher.”

Gar complied, stretching himself a couple inches.

“...uh, higher.”

He rolled onto his toes, swaying for only a moment.

Silence. Then, Wally let out a laugh. “You’re so _short!_ ”

“ **Dude!!** ” Gar laughed, too, falling back on his heels and dropping his arms to his sides in a playfully frustrated gesture. “Don’t be a jerk! I can be taller than you in a second!”

“Cheating.”

“Yeah, because you _always_ play fair.”

“Wow, that was rude. Hurt and offended. Telling Aunt Iris on you.”

"THAT'S cheating."

They laughed again. Wally swiped the back of his hand against his chin, then pointed across the square. “Hey! Look, that bench isn’t occupied. Maybe you can use that.”

Gar nodded, still laughing breathily as he jogged towards the bench. He swung his arms up as he sprang onto it, hopping to the opposite edge and leaning out over it. Wally slid up in front of him and raised the camera again. “Lift your left hand like an inch. …--perfect!”

The camera clicked.

Gar hopped off the bench, landing with a grunt and dropping back to sit on it. He pulled his legs up and tucked them into a criss-cross beneath him, grinning up at Wally as he rounded the bench to sit on the other end. “It’s driving me crazy that we can’t see these pictures yet.”

“I was afraid it might,” Wally said with a chuckle. He tipped his chin towards Gar, offering him the camera. “But, like I said! It’s part of the fun. Makes the day you go to pick up the developed pictures all the more exciting. --and if a roll of film lasted a while, you could find pictures you forgot you’d taken!”

“That is pretty cool,” Gar admitted as he took the camera. “And… we just keep buying more film for it?”

“Yep!”

“I know you wanted to get it for me but, uh… --either let me buy the film, or we can take turns…?” He looked up at Wally carefully, hoping his insistence wasn’t offensive or taken as ungrateful somehow. It must not have been because Wally’s smile softened contentedly, and he nodded. Gar smiled back. He hesitated, looking down at the camera again as he turned it over in his hands. “...um. Why, though? …--what… made you wanna do this?”

When Wally didn’t answer right away, Gar looked up again. The redhead's smile had softened further, and his gaze became downcast. After a couple more seconds, he shrugged, chuckling airily. “I, uh. I dunno. ...I’ve...just been really grateful that Iris has been so… --that she took the time to take pictures and keep albums and take such good care of them all these years,” he said, meeting Gar’s eyes again. “She was right. About… about how it might seem awkward or kind of weird and embarrassing in the moment. Taking the picture and all. But… looking back on it a few years later is really nice. I appreciate that I have all those pictures, the videos, the memories.”

Gar pressed his lips together. He thought about the photo album, the DVDs labeled 'home videos' back at Wally's apartment. He looked down at the camera, suddenly stupid and guilty. “Wally--”

“I just,” Wally interrupted, “want you to have that, I guess. And… I don’t want you to worry about how much film you’re going through or feeling like you have to ‘save it’ for just ‘important’ things.”

Gar looked up carefully. Wally was facing him in full now, one arm draped over the back of the bench and the other palm open and extended towards him. He was smiling, warm, comforting and genuine. It brought a familiar, anxious jitter to his heart, and Gar felt himself swallow. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he hoped the camera still cradled in his hands was sweat resistant.

“Take pictures of whatever you _feel_ is important,” Wally continued, holding Gar’s gaze. “Whatever you want to hold onto or look back on. Don’t ever feel embarrassed or silly about it, either. Doesn’t matter if it’s something small or seems irrelevant to everyone else; it’s yours. I know it’s not as, uh, convenient or sharp as modern cameras and stuff, and some pictures might not come out perfect or just how you thought they would, but that’s kind of what makes it special. And I think… I hope you’ll be glad to have it later down the road, y’know? ...just sorry that I didn’t think to nab it for you sooner.”

“ _Pfff_.” Gar blew a short breath of air through his lips, feeling his cheeks and palms warm as he quickly looked down and absently flicked the camera’s knobs with his thumb. He stopped himself quickly, realizing he didn't know what the knobs were for. “Stop, dude. Not like you coulda read my mind and known these things or whatever.” The words tightened his throat a little, and he cleared it. Wally chuckled.

“I just mean… We’ve known each other, what? Three years, now?”

Gar slanted his gaze, watching Wally as he leaned backward to drape both his arms over the back of the bench and tilt his head skyward. Wally was quiet for a beat, then continued. “Guess I just figured I would’ve caught on by now or pieced it together. You do have a habit of checking out pictures whenever we’re in a house or something. Not because you're nosy or anything, maybe just...” The thought trailed away, and he paused. “You… really didn’t have any pictures taken of you? When you were a kid?”

“...nah.” Gar's eyes dropped back to the camera, though he stared past it now. He had no memories of smiling, posing, being herded together with Mark and Marie. The bright lights never came from behind a lens, and they lasted much longer than a blink. He could only think of mysterious glances, stretches of silence, catching glimpses of himself on reflective surfaces and wondering what wellness looked like. And after that… after the boat, the flood, the falls… to be caught on camera would mean punishment. He wouldn’t feel comfortable in front of a lens again until Vic was the one behind it. Until he was thirteen. Free, at long, long last.

Gar rolled his jaw. “I mean, if I did, they’re somewhere in Africa, and it’s been years since I lived at the compound. --it’s not a big deal.”

He shrugged, managing a convincing enough smile as he looked up at Wally again. “Thanks, Wally. I really… --this is awesome! I can’t wait to catch Rach when she least expects it and use it for blackmail later.”

Wally barked a loud laugh, shaking his head and reaching out to cuff Gar’s shoulder. “ _Don’t_ do that.”

“I’m kidding!” Gar said, finding himself laughing, too. He let his smile slant into a smirk. “Mostly.”

“Poor Rachel,” Wally chuckled. "Or, rather, poor you, if she catches you."

He sighed, leaning back on the bench and shaking his head again. Wally went quiet, then he smiled and tilted his head to glance at Gar. “Thanks for joining me for dinner, Gar. I’m glad to have you back. We’ll have to do this again, soon. Whenever you want. Fill up your camera and, eventually, an album. Or, uh, a box. Something.”

“Totally,” Gar agreed, his smirk softening back to a gentle smile. “I’m not the one with a real ‘schedule,’ though, dude. You just tell me when classes or ‘work’ isn’t kicking your butt, and we can chill. …--and, uh. Thank you for dinner and stuff. I’ll be sure to thank Aunt Iris, too. It was great. So’s she.”

“She really is,” Wally muttered. And he turned his head, falling silent once more as he watched the fountain across from them.

Gar smiled to himself, looking down at the camera in his hands. He closed his fingers around it with care, weighing it and settling it and his palms delicately in his lap.

His chest felt a little lighter, and his ribs felt like they were buzzing. Excitement? He guessed so. His mind was reeling with the possibilities, of all the things he could use the camera for--all the stupid, silly moments he could catch with it. Of Rachel, of Vic, of Kori, of Ajaya. Of Wally. It all seemed… strangely overwhelming. But he liked it all the same.

When he returned to the Tower that night, waving goodbye to Wally and retiring to his bedroom, the energy still writhed in his being. His steps were easy as he ghosted through the halls, and he felt his fingers tremble as they grasped the treasure in his hands. He nabbed a pin-sized tracker from Vic's stash on his way in and stuck it on the camera's underbelly.

_Sorry, void. You ain't getting this one._


	5. Nothing but Thieves

* * *

_- … **Nine years ago** … -_

* * *

 

It’d been quiet for a while.

He had no way of knowing how long it’d been since the bottles had stopped clinking and the muttering and arguing had ceased. Just that he’d been pressed in the corner of 'his room' long enough for his stomach to start aching. The sunlight had crept from one side of the wall to the floor, only to fade completely into shadow. It was dark, now, save for small strips of white leaking under the crack of the door. The lights were still on. At least one was, anyway.

Gar sat. Still as stone. Hardly breathing. His legs curled to his chest, so his knees supported his chin, and his arms coiled around as much of him as they could. The split on his swollen lip throbbed with his heartbeat. He licked it every couple of seconds, one eye twitching when it returned his care with a sting.

His ears swiveled, searching for noise. It could be a voice. A series of footsteps. A bottle placed on the table. He heard nothing. His wide eyes watched the slivers of light stretching through the bottom of the door. No shadows broke it. No movement stirred.

They were asleep. They had to be. He’d heard the bottles, felt the burn of those sickening drinks on his nose when Eddie had stormed past his door, listened as their arguing had gotten nonsensical and petty. Bates had started laughing at one point. Gar didn’t know why. But on nights after a successful job they always drank themselves stupid and fell into a deep sleep. He wasn’t sure why or how the putrid-smelling stuff knocked them out, but he didn’t care. It gave him an opportunity. And after the way things had gone last night? That opportunity was invaluable.

Gar remained where he was. His ears twitched, twisting and brushing against the sides of his head. There was always a chance they’d picked up on his own, secret thievery and were trying to catch him red-handed. He hadn’t seen any clues that they might be onto him or had figured something out… but right now it’d be better not to chance it. He’d wait. Despite his stomach, despite the assuring silence. He’d wait for a giveaway that even one of them was still awake and watching his door.

Time passed. His stomach twisted, hollow and tight. He could hear bats chirp outside and the distant laughter of hyenas. The hallway beyond his door remained silent, as did the living area, the kitchen. If he waited too long, the opportunity would disappear as quickly as it'd come. It was now or never. As his stomach gurgled again, he opted for the former.

Slowly, he pulled his arms away from his legs. He shifted his weight, pressing his palms into the wall as he rose onto his bare feet and wiggled his toes against the hardwood floor. The movement was soundless, calculated and practiced. He’d have to get to the room’s center and to the door as quietly as possible. The trick was to avoid the walls; floorboards were more likely to creak or whine by the walls. Each step was well trained. His weight would glide forward so it moved from one foot to the next as evenly, as smoothly as he could manage. Crawling may have been a better idea, but he was already halfway there.

He reached the door.

Gar closed his hand around the knob, turning it. He found it unlocked but knew better than to pull it open right away. The smallest tug on the door, itself, revealed why. He could feel it resisting, held by force on the other side. For a split second, he froze. What if it was a hand? His throat went dry, and his heart pounded in his chest, the cut on his lip pulsating along with it. What if they’d heard him stir and came to taunt him? He should have crawled. He took a breath, trying to calm himself as much as preparing to face the man on the other side.

A thought occurred to him.

The knob wouldn’t have turned had another hand been closed around it. He exhaled, thick and silent, through his mouth. He released the knob.

It was risky business changing into things small enough to kick or crush, but he had enough confidence now that neither would happen, so long as he moved quickly. He took in a meager breath, closing his eyes and flexing his fingers. In less than a second, the span of a thought, he could feel the world grow. His eyes were forced open as his new body didn’t have eyelids, and he took a moment to wiggle each of his thin six legs, his antenna twitching above his head. Long ago, his dad had warned him not to turn into an ant… especially when outside.

 _Africa has its share of army ants,_ he’d said. _You may be able to get bigger quickly, but you might not be fast enough. They could swarm, sting and bite you in seconds. ...please, keep that in mind, Garfield._

Gar had watched ants differently after that. They were so small. He could get that small if he wanted to.

He’d later ask his mom about them, and she’d go into an in-depth description of ants around the world and how some of them even took ants from other colonies as prisoners and slaves. It’d only added to their warnings. _Please be careful, Garfield. Consider what dangers you may create for yourself when you change._

He had tried. Yet, here he was. Held captive, just not by ants.

He scampered forward and crept beneath the door. He remained under the door’s cover for a moment or two, watching what of the halls he could see. The compound eyes were still a challenge to decipher since he didn’t use them often. It was like looking through a hundred different windows at once and trying to piece each separate image together, all the while keeping in mind that he was less than an inch tall. It made his head hurt.

Gar scuttled out from the door, giving himself enough space to shift back. The windows melded in an instant, becoming ‘one’ again, and the change was jarring enough to give his brain a sensation of spinning. He dropped off his hands and knees as quietly as he could think to manage, huffing and barely stopping himself from falling against the wall. He blinked once. Twice. And, slowly, made sense of what he was seeing.

A bungee cord hooked around his doorknob. It stretched the short distance across the hall, its other end attached to a medium-sized box filled with a random assortment of garbage. It was the purest form of a sound trap; had he dared to open the door all the way, the box would have fallen, and its contents would explode onto the hardwood floor. He squinted at it, bold enough to let a small snort sound from his throat.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, crawling on all fours to the hallway’s opening. His ears swiveled once more, seeking out the smallest of sounds. But, now, there was only one sound he could hear: snoring. Heavy, deep, lights-out kind of snoring. A year ago, the noise would have brought him immense relief. But he’d found in the worst ways that it did not guarantee the men would sleep through any and everything. He could, however, use it as an alarm. If the snoring stopped, he’d need to hide… and fast.

He held his breath as he reached the mouth of the hallway, taking care to stay as centermost as he could and away from the walls. He peered into the ‘living area.’

Eddie was sprawled across the couch. Everything about his posture, how his arms hung senselessly off the cushions, how his head and neck seemed squished against the arm of the sofa, told Gar that the man had openly collapsed. Was it exhaustion? Was it the drink? Probably both, but mostly the latter. He could smell it: strong, presumably spilled and soaking into the floor by now. _Ugh_.

He didn’t see Bates anywhere, but he could hear another set of lungs sounding a low, rumbling snore from the open doorway behind the couch. The single bedroom. Maybe that’s what the two had been arguing about earlier… who would get the comfort of the only bed? He probably should have been paying attention. But some nights it was just easier to let the world around him fade, and his mind wander or shut off entirely, open only to the distant calls and cries of African wildlife. Eerie… unsettling as they could sometimes be… it comforted him.

Gar surveyed the room. He knew going behind the couch would be a dangerous move; while he might be outside Eddie’s immediate field of vision, the floor tended to be particularly loud there. If he stepped just the wrong way--even if he were a cat, a rat--he had no doubt Bates could spot him through the open door. Sure, he could turn into something smaller, but that came with the risk of being crushed. He may be a valuable tool for the men--a cheap ticket to get the riches they wanted--, but a tool was a tool. You break one… you get another. They'd managed without his abilities once. They could do it again if he caused more trouble than he was worth.

… he could use the coffee table, though. The old recliner, too, if he were careful. It’d be a bit of a jump from its back to the kitchen area’s counter but, after last month’s job, he was confident he could pull it off.

Plan in place, he nodded to himself. And, with a small breath, he ducked his head. The world expanded again but a little less this time. He flexed his new toes, letting their claws slide free and touch the floor. This was a form he was much more familiar with. The room grew a bit wider and brighter, but the color faded, becoming muted and dull. Things further away got a bit blurry while the furniture closest to him sharpened. He took a moment to stretch his spine and legs. Cats were nimble. Despite the sleeping danger and the fear chilling his belly, this would be kinda fun. So long as he was smart about it.

He trotted forward, padding soundlessly across the hardwood. The second he was within distance of the coffee table, he pushed into the air. The jump was silent, the landing almost perfect. He slid, just a tiny bit, as his paws made contact with the corners of a newspaper and an open brochure. The table was covered in them: pages from the weekend paper, pamphlets and smaller sheets with layouts hastily sketched on them. He recognized these as the plans from their last job. Bates made him sit and listen to them five times, and again once they'd reached the outskirts of the museum. He hadn't even stepped inside and, already, he could probably find what they wanted in his sleep.

Gar stalked across the table, one ear pivoted to face Eddie’s still snoring body while his eyes explored the sheets beneath his paws. He couldn’t make sense of most of the words; he recognized the simplest ones like ‘the’ and ‘of’ and ‘it.’ But he didn’t need to read the articles to know what they were about. A new exhibit in the museum they'd just 'visited.' A priceless artifact released for viewing. The article probably went on about how important it was, what it would mean for the community. And now it wasn't there. It was packed away, stuffed in a box somewhere in the room Bates slept in.

Guilt flooded him. Cold but somehow burning. Not only had they robbed the museum of that artifact… but they’d robbed families. How many guards had died that night? Eddie and Bates didn’t kill as a first resort, but they didn’t hesitate if the option became available and worked to their advantage.

… Why hadn’t he listened? Maybe that man would still be alive if he had. He could remember the guard's pleas, now. How swiftly the butt of Eddie's rifle came at his own head when he'd had nerve enough to refuse. Even now, as a cat, his lip throbbed with recollection. 

He looked up and away from the pages, trotting the remaining distance across the table. The leap from its edge to the recliner was easy enough, but it didn’t stop the chair from swaying the moment his weight hit it. It squeaked, soft and brief, and he froze. Eddie grunted in his sleep, shifting only enough to adjust where his head rested and pull his arm over the side. It slid off despite the effort and swung limp, his fingers grazing the floor. He remained asleep. The snoring continued, and Gar allowed his body to ease.

 _Punda,_ he thought, feeling the hair down his spine and tail bristle. He turned, springing onto the top of the recliner and immediately to the counter. His paws slid only a centimeter, and he trotted across the bar towards the fridge. His mission was halfway to completion. Just a little further. Just a little more.

Gar dropped off the kitchen counter, returning to his human form seconds after landing. Remaining low, so he inched closer to the fridge in a frog-like squat, he pressed a single finger beneath the fridge door. He wiggled it and found where the bumpy white coating gave way to rubber. His finger tapped it. Then, with a small twist of his wrist, he pressed his finger between the two pieces of rubber that sealed the fridge. The draft was small but enough to let him feel the cold air escape and wash over his wrist, goosebumping the touched flesh. He waited for the air flow to slow before stretching a hand to the handle and tugging the fridge open. It was silent; the air had no longer been trapped, and the seal had no suction. He breathed a quiet breath of relief through his lips and pried the door the rest of the way open.

His eyes roamed the contents. Excitement, joy, began to swell in his chest. The bottles, packages, leftovers all seemed to blur together, and his mind felt like it was spinning. He forced another breath out of his mouth and swallowed, attempting to calm his pounding heart. It’d be one thing to get caught wandering outside of his room. It was a whole different thing to get caught with his head in the fridge or his hand jammed in a cereal box. He had to be careful. He couldn’t mess up a second time so soon. A drink and a snack. Anything to make up for the meal he’d been denied.

The labels on the few jars, bottles, containers meant little to him. He couldn’t make sense of the words. Didn’t matter if they were in English or Swahili or Hausa or whatever, he couldn’t read them. He relied entirely on the designs, the images… colors. Smells, too. And his gaze finally settled on something he recognized.

Gar reached into the fridge and snatched a bottle of grape juice off the bottom shelf. He fumbled with the top, all at once aware of how dry his throat was. He could already taste the juice on his tongue. It was a mocking sort of sensation he felt often, and it would only be sated by the taste it craved. The cap toppled off and he caught it, shoving the bottle's top into his mouth and drinking greedily. The sudden pressure against his split lip stung, but he didn’t pull the bottle away. The juice gurgled. He only lowered it after a fourth of the remaining bottle had been drained, gasping in a tiny breath of air.

He checked over his shoulder. Eddie was still snoring on the couch. Didn’t even look like he’d moved.

Gar ducked to the sink, delicately placing the bottle cap on the counter and stretching onto his toes. His fingers grasped for the faucet dials, and he nudged the bottle into the sink, so its neck stood directly beneath the nozzle. The water hissed and he cringed, holding his breath as it began to trickle out of the faucet and into the bottle. No sound nor movement came from the living room. He remained still for a beat, ears swiveling, before hauling himself onto the counter. The water will have replaced what he’d drunk by the time he found something to eat.

Ears still twitching, one curved so it faced the living room, he pulled the cabinets open. There wasn’t much food; they’d only planned on staying at this location for another couple days while the bustle around the museum settled. To leave town too quickly might draw attention… or, something like that. Bates had been acting kind of weird lately. It was unsettling.

He selected a single pouch of applesauce and a hand-sized box of raisins. A tempting packet of crackers sat in the back of the cabinet, but he knew the wrapping--and the crackers, themselves--would be too noisy even if he did sneak them outside. It was risk enough that he was taking anything at all. He wasn't willing to snag anything that lowered his chances.

Gar placed the food on the counter, peering once more over his shoulder as he let his legs slide over the edge and drift towards the floor.

Eddie continued to snore.

The water had almost filled the bottle to where he’d found it. Gar tugged it from under the stream and shut the water flow off. He capped the bottle, giving it a few careful shakes. Just enough so the water would mix with the juice, and his theft would go unnoticed. He placed the bottle back on the shelf, allowed the fridge door to drift shut, and shifted form as he crept back onto the counter. How fortunate was it that monkeys had thumbs, and tails, to carry things with? He gathered the applesauce pouch and raisin box into the crook of one arm. Now he just had to make it back to his room. Easy. He could do that. He’d done harder things with heavier stuff in hand. No big deal.

Gar sprang from the counter, landing on the recliner with relative grace. It rocked, the hinges squeaking faintly, and he hugged the pouch and box to his chest. Eddie grunted. He didn’t move. And, with a tiny breath, Gar allowed himself to creep down the front of the chair and bound onto the coffee table. He crossed it in silence, quicker than he had the first time, and dropped to the floor without a sound.

He scampered from the center of the living room to the hall, ducking into it and halting just in front of his door. He shifted back, blinking a few times as he placed the pouch and box on the floor beside his door. Slowly, Gar stood and shuffled to the crate of items. He raised his hands, hesitating a long moment before daring to reach out and grip the bungee hook. It held tight. He wondered if the doorknob might snap off, or if the cord connected to the other hook would just fray and snap. But, as he guided the hook with as much care as he could muster, the cord and second hook held. He coaxed it from the box and leaned so he could allow it to hang from the door without swinging. He opened the bedroom door and used his foot and toes to nudge the applesauce and raisins inside. He shut it and retrieved the bungee hook.

Almost there. Almost in the clear.

The cord resisted his tugs and almost made him grunt as he strained against it, but he managed to wiggle the hook back around the open handle on the box. It slid, maybe a centimeter, and he held his breath until his lungs began to ache. Only once he was sure the box wouldn’t be pulled from its perch, he turned on his heel and shrank into an ant for the second time that day.

As he morphed into a human, Gar dropped back on his haunches. It was a blend of overwhelm from the ant’s eyes as well as a thick wave of relief. He’d gotten a drink, gotten some food, all without so much as stirring the thieves. The truth was, whether he liked to admit it or not, he was getting good at this… getting the hang of everything he’d been forced to pick up from them over the past… however long he’d been stuck here. Learning their tricks. Learning to pull some of his own. Learning how to pick up on behavioral patterns, deep-rooted routines, and apply them so he could be in and out and gone before his presence was even felt. He was far from perfect. It was difficult to exercise these practices outside of ‘jobs,’ as being caught would mean more locks, more traps, more punishments. But every victory, no matter how small, mattered. This was no exception.

Gar rolled onto his hands and knees, one ear still twitching towards the door with an air of caution. The other rotated to face the floorboards, listening intently as he tapped a finger against the wood. He knew where the loose panel was. The trick was in coaxing it up and out enough so he could grab it. It took a couple tries but, sure enough, the thin board popped loose. He was quick to jam his other fingers beneath it, eye squinting into a wince when some of the old wood pressed a splinter under his skin. His hand remained beneath the board, and he pried it up to peer inside. A sliver of grey metal gleamed gently in what natural light leaked into the room. Gar bit his sore lip as he wedged his fingers into the crevice and pulled the paperclip to the surface.

He’d swiped it off a clerk desk a few months back at the auction they’d busted, tucking it into the back of his mouth and taking care to remain in a form that’d hold its size. In hindsight, it hadn’t been his best idea; the paperclip had sliced up his tongue, cheeks and gums something awful. But it’d been worth it. So, so worth it.

Gar set the board back into place, pushing to his feet and darting to the window. He worked silently as a ghost, nudging a small nightstand beneath the sill and climbing atop it. It’d taken him a little over a week to figure out how to unlock these kinds of windows. The latch and lock were just old enough, and he’d about rubbed his thumb raw toiling with the metal clip for hours throughout the night. Now he knew how to nudge, twist, wedge it just so. And the lock clicked.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Excitement. Joy. Fear. He wheeled to collect the pouch and raisin box.

His form shifted once more to a small monkey. He scaled the outside frame of the window, hopping from that to a drain pipe. It whined when his weight hit it but complained no more, and he reached the roof without problem. Gar morphed back, scuttling across the short length of the roof to its center and sitting himself down. Crossing his legs, he tore the applesauce open and began to dig it out with his fingers. It was sweet. Maybe a bit mushier than he’d expected. He devoured it anyway.

Gar swallowed and smacked his lips, licking them clean as he turned his gaze to the stars. They were a decent ways outside the nearest village or city (he wasn’t sure which was right), enough so that a trip in to get food or gas for their truck would take Eddie or Bates a while. It allowed for the stars to be in full bloom, spreading across the endless sky in a mess of speckles, streams and dots. The moon provided most of his light, and he began to blink his eyes.

He’d figured out how to change his ears a while back… _just_ his ears. They were pointed, now. Able to turn, raise, lower and swivel with a thought. Everything had grown louder, clearer, which was both useful and a hindrance. He could now place where guards were in job spots or, more importantly, where Eddie and Bates were within their own hideouts. It was useful if he felt he needed to hide--no matter the situation--and though the change was small, it helped him to feel safer. Like he had… had some form of control over _something_ …

And, now, he tried to do the same with just his eyes. Pretty as the stars were, the land surrounding their shack was shrouded in blackness. Already, his ears were picking up on small movements. Rustles. The hyenas giggling in the distance. A call, a cry, he hadn’t learned to recognize just yet. He’d feel better if he could see just a little more. Human eyes weren’t so reliable even under the brightest moons. It’d be more costly to do something wrong with his eyes than it would be with his ears. He had to concentrate. Think about the cat he’d just been. He blinked his eyes and sucked in a small breath.

When he opened them again, the world had brightened--just enough--and remained almost gray in color. He could see the outlines of nearby trees with more accuracy, the field, the shape of the roof. Once again, things in the distance grew a bit blurrier, but he was fine with that. Gar spooned more applesauce into his mouth with his fingers. When he’d emptied the pouch, he licked it and his fingers clean before setting the plastic into a small groove in the roof. He’d need to sneak out and collect the garbage so he could stuff it into the bottom of the trash bin the next time Eddie and Bates were out or distracted. Didn’t want the remains of his crime to overfill the groove or attract too many bugs. 

Suckling the last of the applesauce off his fingertips, Gar tore open the box of raisins and tipped his head back so several tumbled into his mouth. They were kinda gummy and tasteless, but he didn’t care. It might not be enough to make up for a lost meal but… it was something.

Gar sank to lie down on the roof, drawing his feet up so his heels pressed into the bottoms of his thighs. He stared into the sky, occasionally digging a raisin or two out of the box and wedging them into his mouth. Above him, the stars glowed, sometimes blocked by the silhouette of something fluttering yards above him. They filled the night air with tiny chirps and squeaks, some fussier than others. _Bats,_ he thought, smiling to himself. It faded, however, as he watched the creatures bumble through the black.

They made it look so easy, bats and birds... They could spring into the air, drop from cave ceilings, and glide in an instant, one with the sky and wind. From the moment he’d discovered he could change into more than just a mongoose, he’d wanted to join them. Several times, he’d morphed into the small birds they kept in a section of the compound. He’d flutter stupidly, only able to reach the same height he could push himself to hop. He’d tumble and bounce, a scrambling mess of feathers and tiny wings and feet. His parents, Samuel, discovered what he’d been up to not long after he’d started. They'd noticed the bruises, eventually catching him in the midst of setting up a clumsy launchpad. And, not long after that, he began to pick up pieces of conversation when they thought he couldn’t hear them.

 _What if he learns to fly, Marie?_ His father had muttered once. _This is the third time this week we’ve caught him trying to jump off chairs. --he’s going to hurt himself. Or, worse… we could lose him._

 _I know,_ came her weak response. _We need to talk to him. But I don’t… --He_ won’t _learn… it’s… --it’s not ingrained in our species. Birds have evolved to be born with an understanding, even if they need a couple days to teach themselves--they just_ know _. Like toddlers learning to walk. We, as humans, weren’t made to fly or to… to be able…_

She’d trailed off but, even then, he’d known what she meant to say.

 _He_ is _just a boy,_ his father added. _And easily distracted. It takes him long enough to get used to a new animal. Maybe he won’t pick it up._

 _He’s just a boy **now**._ That had been Samuel’s voice, and he’d felt his gut twist. _You need to remember: he won’t be a boy forever. You've said, yourselves, that he's 'naturally curious' just like the two of you. It's only a matter of time before he begins to explore more... concerning elements. Just look what you've done when you were driven. We need to understand what he’s capable of._

If there’d been more, he hadn’t heard it. He’d wandered away.

It wouldn’t be until _that_ afternoon. When the flood waters bellowed, the waterfall roared and his dad scrambled to gain control of their small boat. That his mom would take him by his shoulders with a wild, desperate wetness in her eyes. _Garfield,_ she’d said, her voice catching. _Fly. Please--please. You have to fly!_

He tried to tell her he didn’t know how. He was scared--terrified--of the rolling waves and the thundering drop ahead. He couldn’t, he couldn’t--and he didn’t want to. _Small things,_ he thought. _I can only turn into small things--I won’t be big enough. Not for you. Not for dad. What will happen to you? Why are you acting like this? I don't want to leave. I want to help._

But she’d gripped his arm and dragged him, staggering through the splashing water and rocking boat to the edge and pulled him onto the rail. His shoe had slipped on the wet metal and he’d felt himself cry out, digging his fingers into her forearm in a mess of anguish. The water sprayed against him, rising in a mist and beading on his skin. It was cold, and it was everywhere. Still, she held him on the rail. Her head and voice were shaking. _You can!_ She said, ignoring his pleas. _You can do it--Garfield--please! Please-- **FLY!!**_

And she’d shoved.

He couldn’t remember everything that’d happened after that.

The world dropped away from him. Water, air, tore at his face. His vision had blurred, all at once sharpening, widening, brightening in color. He felt lighter. Spinning, spinning, flailing his arms--no, his wings. The falls filled his ears, the water roaring louder, louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Was he flying? No. No, he was falling. Plummeting down, down through the misty air. Panic filled his chest, pressing into his throat like bile. He tried to steer, tried to flap his tiny wings, twisting in the wind. All at once, he felt himself lift--for only a second--then the fall continued. Again, he tried. He scrambled to remember what he’d just done to slow his descent. And, again, for a sharp beat of his heart, he lifted and glided through the air.

Then it engulfed him. Water. Cold and swallowing. The shock, the terror, must have forced him back to human form, and he’d begun kicking and writhing. He must have screamed; he could remember water bubbling in his throat, choking him from the inside. He’d just started to feel its weight against his lungs when his heel scraped the river floor, cutting the skin. His feet responded on their own, desperate for purchase.

He stumbled three steps before crawling the rest of the way to the river’s edge, his arms giving way so he rolled onto his side and lay panting on the bank. He felt weak. His heart still hammered in his ribs. He could hear the gentle, deceivingly soft trickle of the river water around his ears just over the bellow of the waterfall. Then, all at once, he’d sat upright.

How long had he waited there, rooted by the river’s side? He couldn’t tell you. Minutes. Hours. A day. Everything bled together, mixed and muddy in his head. His eyes burned with dry tears and his throat ached from calling out to them.

Two figures had eventually emerged from the trees. And they definitely were not his parents.

Gar blinked his eyes, suddenly aware that he’d began to cry. He scrubbed at his lids with the heel of his palm, sniffing and swallowing in attempt to force the memories, the emotions, somewhere else. The bats overhead continued to flutter about, their wings surprisingly quiet in the night air. He watched them and shoved a small handful of raisins into his mouth, chewing slowly.

He still couldn’t fly. If he tried to learn, now, and Eddie or Bates caught him, he knew they’d do whatever they could to discourage him. He remembered the snap of a guard’s leg during one job. The shriek from another as Bates had broken his hand. His own bones stung with a pain they hadn’t sustained, and he gripped his arm with his free hand.

… but…

What would his chances be? What were the odds? Would he be better off without Eddie and Bates?

They always told him he wouldn’t survive alone. Every chance they got, they’d remind him of how the tribe reacted to seeing him the day they'd found him. How they’d shrank away, called him “ailera”... _diseased._

The tribe wasn't wrong. He’d known that, even then. It’d been the answer he’d received when he’d asked why he couldn’t leave the compound. Why he couldn’t go into the villages with his parents to get supplies or mingle with the locals. _You’re sick, Garfield,_ they’d told him. _You don’t want to get anyone else sick, do you?_

He’d found this to be unlikely. Impossible, even. Once, after Bates had grabbed his arm, he’d bitten him out of spite in hopes it would make him sick, too. It hadn’t. And it’d been days before he could touch his nose again without his eyes watering.

He hadn’t understood the severity of his ‘sickness’ then, and he still didn’t now. It wouldn’t be for another three years that he fully grasped how dangerous it was… that he was the only known human to have survived Sakutia, and how right the tribe and his parents had been to be wary of someone with the tell-tale green skin.

It was true that Eddie and Bates fed him enough. It was true that they allowed him to sleep indoors during the cold nights, provided him shelter during the hot days. All they asked for in return was the aid of his… talents. His ability to go where humans could only go with great difficulty, to gnaw at colored wires and to scale walls for a window, drop a rope to the ground below. _Don’t even think about running away,_ Eddie had laughed in a joking manner that was anything but joking. _Some of our friends? They’re, ah. Hunters._ (Poachers, he’d later learn). _They can track any animal, big or small, across the plains of Africa. It doesn’t matter how far, how long, you run, kidogo kijani. We will find you._

He hadn’t slept that night.

But thinking about the words, turning them in his head, now, he thought of something he hadn’t before. The hunters could track animals, sure. But… how do you follow something that doesn’t leave tracks? Something that doesn’t scurry, walk or run?

A bird could take flight and be gone in seconds, lost to the sky and barely a speck among the clouds and unending blue. How do you follow that? Something that could escape in every meaning of the word; something that could go so far, so high, that it became invisible to the human eye.

He could do it. He had to be able to. He could turn into cats, leap, climb and scratch. He could turn into snakes, slither, burrow and squeeze. So… why wouldn’t he be able to fly? Why wouldn’t he be able to learn just as he had with everything else? And if animals could survive on their own without the help of humans, why couldn't he?

Gar sat up, placing the empty box of raisins in the groove. He raised his fingertips to his split lip, touching the tender skin just beneath it and rolling his tongue over the crack. It stung. And it’d sting a lot worse if he got caught trying to fly. But, as he lifted his gaze to the stars again, watching the shapes of bats and looking beyond them to the vast space above… he decided he didn’t care.

He was tired of them. Tired of stealing. Tired of standing by while they hurt, while they killed. He was too small, too weak, to fight them. They were bigger, stronger, armed with knives, with guns, with their own hands. They were dangerous. To others, to him, to themselves. Every time he’d stood up to them he’d been knocked back down. A broken finger one month, a black eye another, a busted lip tonight. It wasn’t working. He’d have to try something new. Running, in its most literal sense, wasn’t an option. They’d send their friends at his heels. The punishments would be worse, more damning. So he’d need to be sneaky, more than he already was. He’d need to be clever, more than he already was. He knew just what he was going to do.

He was going to learn to fly. And he was going to fly away.


	6. Old Thoughts

August stole away without so much as a ‘good-bye.’

The last couple days of the month had been quiet, all things considered. The upcoming season probably had something to do with it. With autumn colors creeping in and vibrant summer greens and blues a memory, the city’s children made their way back to school. Beaches grew empty and peaceful, dotted with a few couples sat by the waterline digging for shells or joggers in the mornings or a single visitor and their current book, set up under the sun with a small umbrella and some snacks. The parks weren’t much different, just with more dogs, less bathing suits.

Something was energizing and weird about seeing it from ‘the other side’ for the first time. Not that Gar hadn’t before; there’d been plenty of afternoons he’d ducked out of class ‘without permission.’ Sometimes you just gotta play hooky and go save the world, y’know? But this time around was different. He’d battled through high school, and now he wasn’t expected to be there. There’d be no teachers leering at him as he sank back into his desk. No peers whispering to each other under the belief that he wouldn’t hear them, passing around gossip about his skin, about animal-related kinks, and calling him a blend of less than affectionate nicknames he honestly couldn’t care less about. And, perhaps best of all, there was no homework. No reading. No late nights bent over a textbook, head in his hands, eyes straining and lips fumbling out the words as he struggled to get through one page in less than a half hour. Sometimes it felt like the letters dodged his gaze on purpose just to make the task all the more exhausting.

Some of his teachers would shake their heads, muttering under their breath about how brilliant his parents had been and how incredible it was their son was just barely passing physics, chemistry and, most damning, biology. Just like his peers, they didn’t think he could hear them. But he could. The insult didn't bother him so much as the fact these teachers thought they knew his parents because they'd read articles, public research notes or essays his mom had written. They _didn't_ know his parents. They never would.

Gar decided, long ago, that he didn’t want to be a biologist, anyway. He’d already accepted that he was an idiot. It made the weekly to monthly reminders easier to brush off or ignore, even if some of them did manage to burrow under his skin every now and again and cause irritation or pain.

He woke this early September morning with a little more enthusiasm than usual. Maybe it was the promise of ‘no school’ still bouncing around the back of his mind, lightening his step and shoulders. Maybe it was that combined with the environment of the Tower, knowing he’d enter the Ops room and find at least one of his teammates already there.

This morning he’d found Kori, which was unsurprising. Tamarans didn’t need the same regular amount of sleep that humans did. Most days of the week, Kori could be found in various areas of the Tower during the late hours of the night or early hours of the morning. Some nights she kept to her room, watching documentaries or reading on her laptop, or experimenting with new make-up tutorials or hair tips she’d learned. Other nights, she’d have moved her activities to the Ops room for a change of scenery. It also wasn’t uncommon for her to share whatever she’d discovered while they’d been sleeping the moment they came into contact with her. Gar often missed most of it; his mornings were spent in a bit of a fog between sleep and full consciousness, and her lively explanations about earth history or the specifics of gemology kinda went in one ear and out the other. But, thankfully, when she all but sprinted up to him this morning--laptop in arm, Silkie clinging to her left shoulder and auburn hair up in a loose bun--he was almost fully awake.

Gar made a simple breakfast of cinnamon rolls. He set the electric kettle on its stand so the water would be heated and kept warm by the time Rachel joined them and listened to Kori as she detailed her overnight adventures. She’d spent a good chunk of the morning looking over tattoo designs, collecting those that caught her eye or that she presumed he might like. And, once the cinnamon rolls were out of the oven, he scampered to his room to retrieve his own laptop.

By the time Rachel glided into the Ops Room, Gar and Kori were seated near the couch. He perched, legs crossed and laptop in lap, on the coffee table, and she was ‘lying’ on her stomach, hovering maybe two inches off the floor in front of her own computer. Silkie churred as he inched his way across the coffee table, and Gar remained still as he felt the worm start to crawl up his back. Rachel nodded to them as she pulled a large mug from the cabinet and helped herself to a roll. They could all go back for seconds at this point; Ajaya had spent the past couple days in her apartment, and Vic was at his grandparents’ house.

“I thought that, perhaps, since we were considering matching tattoos,” Kori said, picking her laptop off the ground and rotating it to face him. “We could also consider a ‘themed’ tattoo! Such as two things that go well together! Like this.”

He tilted his screen downwards, leaning over it to glimpse hers. The tattoos were two slices of bread--one on each person’s arm and both with a simple little ‘smiley face.’ The first slice was coated in peanut butter and the second, a spread of purple jam. Gar grinned, letting out a soft laugh. “Those are cute!! But, uh. I think the color thing might be a problem.” He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Brown’s not a good look for me. And… I don’t think it’d stand out too well on your skin, either.”

Kori glanced down at her arm. She pursed her lips, shoulders deflating in a clear sign of mild frustration. His smile weakened, and he chuckled. “... sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh… um.”

“It is alright!” She said, looking up and smiling brightly again. “You are correct. I should have remembered that this would be very much like finding the appropriate shades and colors for makeup. We must find something that compliments our natural complexions.”

Gar’s smile returned. Kori spun her laptop around again, and he stole a glance at the couch where Rachel had seated herself with a book. Just as his gaze reached her, her eyes dropped back to the pages, and she lifted the hardback an inch higher. He blinked.

“Perhaps we should get something monochromatic,” Kori continued. Gar rotated to face her again, his brows knitting together as he reached up to nudge Silkie away from his ear.

“Uh… mono-what-now?”

“Monochromatic,” she repeated, her expression gentle as she looked up from her screen. “It means ‘one color.’ Such as a tattoo that is only applied with black ink.”

“Oh!” He nodded, one ear lifting a hair as he tilted his head. Silkie let out a squeak of protest, headbutting Gar's now exposed jaw. Gar reached up again, this time scratching Silkie's chin with his fingertips. The larva purred, delighted. “I get it. …--yeah! That’d be cool! And maybe black would be a good color or something.”

“Yes.”

Gar pushed his laptop screen back into place, tapping the down arrow key a couple times. But he found it more difficult to focus on the designs, now. The fact that they were getting closer to actually… _doing_ this swam in his head.

He knew it was different. This wasn’t going to be like what he’d experienced before. But needles were needles. Tattoos meant needles. When they’d first been tossing the idea around in May--swept up in the excitement of his graduation and the need for celebration--he hadn’t thought much of the whole picture. They’d wanted something for the two of them, some sort of symbol of their connection, their relationship. Friendship bracelets could be lost or broken (especially if he needed to shift) and a tattoo seemed like the perfect solution. It'd last forever, just as they would.

He swallowed a little, rubbing absently at his upper arms. Backing out now would be awful. After Kori had spent a good chunk of the night searching for designs, keeping both their interests and tastes in mind the very best she could. She was so obviously excited about this, for both of them. The last thing he wanted to be was the jerk who took that away from her.

His phone buzzed, almost making him jump. Silkie did, and the worm squealed as he toppled off Gar's shoulder, flopping onto the coffee table. Gar twisted to the space behind him and plucked his phone off the coffee table, swiping the message open. 

> [BETTErthanu, 10:46am]: idk what UR havin 4 breakf but i had donuts. top it ho.

He smirked, quickly pecking at the screen with his thumbs.

> [alligartor, 10:48am]: cinnabuns my dude.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 10:49am]: o shit. ill accept it. this time.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 10:50am]: hey wo/ u like 2 come 2 LA 4 a few? been a while.

Geez, Bette was awful at texting. He needed to ask Vic to make a decoder specifically for her.

“Oh! Here is a design I found very beautiful.”

Gar glanced up, lowering his phone. Kori once again turned her laptop towards him, pointing to a large photo she’d brought to full size. It was a simple arrangement; a flower of some sort with no fill-color, just line work, and three dots vertically 'stacked' beneath it, shrinking downwards. He counted seven petals on the flower. They overlapped each other as though transparent. He let out a faint _‘oooooh,’_ leaning a bit closer to her screen.

“What is that?”

Kori opened her mouth but, to their surprise, Rachel answered for her.

“It’s a lotus flower,” she said. They turned to her, blinking. Rachel peered over the top of her book, her steady gaze fixed on the laptop’s screen. “They’re commonly associated with rebirth, purity, and divinity, and have a deep significance in ancient Egypt, Buddhism, and Hinduism. They grow in muddy water, often the only bright thing in sight. Their colors have different meanings, too, but… if you’re not looking to get something with color, the lines would mean enough.”

Gar stared at her, his ears lifted almost to their highest position. He knew Rachel often eavesdropped on their activities and conversations while she read--Casper did it, too--but he hadn’t thought she’d be interested enough to comment on it or offer insight.

“How wonderful!” Kori said, everything about her expression more vibrant and glowing. She scooped her phone off the floor, swiping it open and typing quickly in what had to be her 'notes' app. He guessed she was making a reminder to research those things during her late night escapades. “Oh--do you think it would suit us? --Garfield?”

She turned to look at him, the bun atop her head swinging so it slanted just to the right. Gar grinned, letting himself chuckle as he popped his shoulders in a shrug. “I think it’s totally cool! I like the design, too. It’s real nifty! Simple but, ah…”

“Elegant?” She filled in. His grin softened, slanting into a small simper.

“Sure! That’s a good word. Might be outta my league, though.”

“I’ll say,” Rachel muttered. He dropped his smirk, side-eyeing her and poking his bottom jaw out as Kori covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. Gar flicked an ear, sitting up a little straighter.

“What? I could pull off 'elegant' if I wanted to!”

“Is this one of your ridiculous jokes?” She asked, her book lowering about an inch. His smirk returned.

“Would you like one?”

“No.”

“Okay: knock knock.”

“ _Come in_.”

She hadn’t skipped a beat.

The reply froze in his throat, his voice dying in his open mouth. A second passed before Kori erupted in a soft fit of laughter, her head tilting back and her fingers falling away from her lips. He continued to stare at Rachel, utterly bamboozled. The glint dancing in the purple of her eyes was enough to tell him she wasn’t just smirking behind the veil of her book, but that she was basking in the moment. Drinking this small victory in.

Gar narrowed his eyes to a squint, slowly raising one hand to point a finger at her. “... you win _this round_.”

Her head tilted up, as though she intended to rub it in, but the alarm broke through the air. They all flinched, whirling around to face the center-most window as the glass clouded, merging into the computer’s screen. Gar shoved his laptop to the side, swinging his legs off the table and jogging to the console as Kori straightened in the air and Rachel pushed off the couch. They reached his side as his fingers found the needed keys, bringing up two police reports, a bank alarm signal and a feed from one of the street cameras. A towering, bulking figure pried away a chunk of wall, lifting it over their head and hurling the brick and stone inside. As the shadow passed, their identity became more than evident. Gar felt his lips peel away from his teeth.

“... Adonis.”

He didn’t have to look at Rachel to know her own features had darkened, bittered with disdain. He could feel it; a creeping heat in his core. Kori let out a sigh, folding her arms as she sank to stand on the floor.

“He has been… idle, for some time,” she said. “But a bank? Normally he prefers mocking the ‘weak.’”

“Gotta pay for that fancy hardware somehow,” Gar muttered.

The computer beeped. Vic’s voice came in through the surrounding speakers. “Y’all need me to come over?”

Gar turned his head to Kori. She shrugged, frowning before turning to push into the air and fly towards the main doors after she scooped Silkie off the floor. She was probably off to put him back in her room, quickly change into uniform. Gar glanced at Rachel as she pulled her hood over her head. She was looking back at him. Her eyes, now shadowed but no less bright, seemed to search his face. He took a slow breath, holding it, swallowing, then nodding his head as he turned back to the screen.

“Nah,” he said, flicking his wrist to shut the feed off. “We got this.”

“Alright,” Vic said, his voice cautious yet somehow confident. “Signal if that changes. I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Yep.”

The transmission clicked off. Gar flexed his free hand, his other drumming his pinky against the console keys. Then, he pushed away from it, glancing over his shoulder as he jogged towards the doors. “Ready, Rach?”

She glided behind him, silent and swift as a breath. “Let’s ruin this creep’s day.”

* * *

 They could handle this without Cyborg. Heck, Cyborg had taken Adonis down all on his own once. There were three of them this time around. And Star could punch harder than any of them.

  
Adonis wasn’t exactly the worst of the lot. The trick was getting him out of that walking fortress he called a body suit. And, also, ignoring his constant flow of mockery and general jerkwad, creeper attitude. He didn’t escape prison all that often because, without his armor, he was a smaller fry than Beast Boy was. But when he did get out? Did get a hold of a new set of body armor? It was never a fun time.

Beast Boy could already feel Star and Raven’s guards rising as they flew into the city. He gave his wings a brief flap, allowing himself to glide on a stray gust of wind as they soared a little higher to breach the first row of buildings. Even if they hadn’t known the location of the city bank, it wouldn’t have been hard to find. A path of destruction soon appeared; footprints crushed into the pavement, a few crashed vehicles and a busted fire hydrant spewing a constant stream of water onto the road, forming a small makeshift lake. Most civilians appeared to have already cleared out, but a few lingered around, surveying the damage, checking on those who could have been hurt. They waved as the Titans passed, a few cheering. No one looked injured or scared out of their wits, so the team of three pressed on, closing the gap between themselves and the bank.

Adonis was clamoring out as they reached it. There were two large metal ‘boxes’ tucked under one arm, and by the looks of it, one of them was already dented, possibly punctured. Adonis was smirking to himself. The expression remained even as Star and Raven landed on the street and Beast Boy flipped out of the air, landing between them in his human form. A five second, silent pause. Then, Adonis grinned.

“Looks like you’re missing two,” he said. “They wuss out?”

“More like they weren’t all that worried. You're not exactly a threat,” Raven said. Beast Boy felt a cold spike; it slid through his chest, thin-spread and sharp as an icicle. It came primarily from Raven but… some of that had also come from the jerk in the red suit. Beast Boy could see the irritation flicker in his eyes even from here. The man scoffed, dropping the metal boxes, so they hit the ground hard. Beast Boy winced as the sound of metal striking pavement reverberated in his ears. Whatever was inside rattled loudly. Jewelry, he guessed, or some other valuable possession someone had stored in a safe box. Adonis punched one fist into his other palm, cracking the false knuckles and popping his neck.

“I’ll give them a reason to be worried.”

He’d barely gotten the words out when Starfire’s arms rose, a bright beam of neon green firing from her closed fists. Adonis acted just fast enough. He grabbed a piece of the busted wall at his feet, using it as a shield against the blast. At the same time the wall went up, Raven sank through a shadow on the ground and Beast Boy launched forward. Three steps and he sprang, briefly using his arms as a block against the rubble and dust before shifting into a lithe tiger and darting around and through the smoke. His sharpened vision spotted Adonis, and he sprang. But Adonis had been ready. He ducked low so Beast Boy soared over him, palm extended. A jolt of pain, shock, pulsed through Beast Boy’s spine as he felt Adonis’s fingers close around his tail, stopping his descent, rattling his skull even before he was hurled across the street. He hit the side of a car hard, a blend of a roar and a yelp barking from his throat as he slumped onto the road.

His vision spun. His head throbbed. Ears, ringing. His shoulder--the one that had dented the car door--was burning; pretty sure that was going to bruise before night came around. Beast Boy allowed himself to shift back, swallowing a groan of pain as he pushed onto his hands and knees. A thunderous crash exploded in his ears. He raised his head in time to see Starfire collide with Adonis, eyes flaring, sparking, electric green with fury. It wasn’t until she’d wrestled him several feet away that Beast Boy realized the jerk had been charging him, intent on crushing him between his own weight and the car. Beast Boy spat to the side, scraping the back of his glove across his lips.

Something buzzed in his head. As he pushed back to his feet, steadied himself for another attack, he thought it the aftermath of the hit he’d taken and waited for the buzz to fade. It didn’t go away. He realized it wasn’t pain. Wasn’t an injury. It was himself. His instinct--his senses. Something’s wrong. Something’s different. He didn’t get the chance to think twice about it.

Adonis twisted his ankles, anchoring his feet. Starfire let out a surprised grunt as his backward slide stopped, her fingers tightening around his armored wrists to the point Beast Boy could hear the metal give from where he stood. It popped like a crushed soda can. But it didn’t slow the armored jerk down. Adonis took that split second of surprise and confusion, using it to flip his hands around and close his mechanical fingers around Starfire’s gauntlets. She wasn’t grounded like he was--she was airborne--and he twisted on his heel, so she whirled through the air, launching her like a missile into a shop window. The glass shattered as Beast Boy morphed into a bull, charging forward.

  
He was spotted immediately. And he’d been counting on it.

Adonis grinned, a wild and triumphant gleam in his eyes, as he threw himself forward to catch Beast Boy by his curved horns. "That all you got?!"

If bulls could smirk, his expression would have been nothing but wicked.

 _Gotcha_.

At the very last second, he shifted. The world went large--bright and elaborate with color and detail. He heard Adonis let out a surprised sound when his palms closed over empty air, and Beast Boy zipped down, between the giant's legs, his hummingbird body nimble and quick as a blink. Adonis continued to stumble forward, his balance lost, and Beast Boy whirled. He went from tiny, fragile hummingbird to massive, mighty silverback in the span of a thought, fists balled over his head. He came down with his strength, his weight, the raw pull of gravity, and slammed his fists on Adonis's back. The power of the blow rattled his bones all the way to his shoulders. And Adonis dropped. Dropped right into an open portal. Where Raven would be waiting.

Beast Boy huffed as his feet hit the pavement, the portal closing as quick as it’d opened. He morphed back and flexed his hands, the bones within them still tingling from the blow. From irritation. Starfire flew out of the shop, either unaware or uncaring of the twinkling shards of glass caught in her hair. She flew to his side, landed. Somewhere beneath them, a muffled crash rumbled the ground.

“Is it me,” Beast Boy said, his eyes narrowing, “or is his gear thicker today?”

Starfire hummed. He could sense a level of frustration emitting from her, contained just below the surface. “No. It is not only you. When I squeezed his arm, it gave, but not as much as it has before. It is… _different_. A new material.”

Another crash shook the pavement under their feet. Beast Boy watched the street, eyes searching for a black spot--an opening.

“Should we find her?” Starfire asked, her tone now softer with worry. He shook his head.

“Give her a sec. She’ll spit him back--”

A black ring formed several feet away from them. Adonis launched out of it, tumbling, sliding across the street with an ear-bleeding screech until he collided with the same bank wall he’d broken out of just minutes ago. The concrete whined, crumbled and collapsed, covering him with a thick layer of debris and rubble. The two of them had ducked into a ready-stance but now allowed themselves to ease out of it, their steps slow as they approached the heap. Beast Boy felt a cooling, creeping sensation down his spine, and he knew without looking that Raven had risen out of the ground behind them.

The dust clouded around where Adonis had crashed. There didn’t appear to be any movement. It wasn't always a sign of victory but... it was something.

“Think we got him?” Beast Boy muttered, pausing to raise his ears.

Raven huffed. “Might want to drop a car on him,” she grumbled. “Just to be sure.”

He cast a mild smirk over his shoulder, one brow raised. If she noticed, she didn’t react.

They inched forward. Starfire raised one arm, a starbolt sparking to life around her fingers. Black orbs surrounded Raven’s hands and she remained in the air, hovering maybe five inches off the ground. Beast Boy craned his head, one ear raising to its highest point. He sniffed the air. The best way to describe it was… gravel. Bland. Dusty, kinda itchy, without being stuffy. The pile of rubble didn’t budge, and Raven extended a hand to lift the most significant slice of wall that had fallen.

It shot towards them, thrown before her magic could ensnare it. Starfire flew ahead, letting out a breath as she caught the piece of wall and stopped it, beginning to lift it above her head. But Adonis was on his feet. Was running. A fist drew back. Beast Boy knew what was coming. He barely had time to think _big--soft!--_ and turned into a massive grizzly bear a heartbeat before Starfire slammed into his stomach. The force was more than enough to knock him off his paws. He let himself bend into it, curling around her before his spine collided with something hard and unmoving. Between her, the wall, the air burst from his lungs and a sharp sting flew from his gut to his ribs. He morphed back as he slid to the ground, throwing one arm out to catch himself while the other remained draped around Starfire’s side. She caught herself, too. Wrapped one arm around her stomach where Adonis’s punch must have landed. He could see her expression was twisted and tight. But not due to pain. She was angry.

“You… okay?” Beast Boy asked through his breath, though he knew he didn’t have to. Star could take one hell of a beating before she even broke a sweat. She nodded, scowling. A horrible, metallic scrape tore at his ears, and he cringed as he forced himself to look up. Adonis was swinging a car door at Raven. She flew backward, blocking each attack with a flash of a black shield. His blows were coming too quick for her to place her concentration elsewhere, forcing her into a purely defensive position. Beast Boy growled under his breath. It shouldn’t be this hard. Where had Adonis managed to get this stuff? What was it?

Starfire shoved to her feet, firing a large bolt at Adonis. It exploded against his shoulder, throwing his next swing off and sending him stumbling a few steps to the side. Just enough of an opening for Raven to throw her arms down, clenching her fists, then clap her hands together. Two cars blackened, slid across the street. Adonis dropped the car door and stretched his arms out to his sides. The cars slammed into his palms, bending and twisting as he strained to hold them away from him. Beast Boy launched forward along with Starfire, ignoring the burn in his back and stomach as he morphed into a tiger again. There was the unmistakable sound of metal crunching, giving. And, suddenly, Adonis tore the cars out of the air.

Beast Boy heard Raven gasp. He narrowly dodged the first swing of the car, springing to the side as its headlights scraped the ground and sent up sparks when the glass shattered. As he rebounded, Starfire shrieked. There was another, thundering crash. The high-pitched scream of metal on the road. Beast Boy launched himself at Adonis, jaws open, heavy-duty claws bared to dig the man out of his suit if he had to. He hit the armored chest with enough force to shove Adonis backward, tearing at the suit. When it didn’t give, didn't peel, he shifted again. A velociraptor. Hellish claws, more nimble body. He sprang forward with a squeal. He wasn't thinking. He should have dodged right.

Adonis, ready for the next attack, reached out and closed his hand tight around Beast Boy’s neck. The world blurred. He felt himself slam into the pavement, the sound of the collision filling his ears, echoing in his head. He heard himself shriek a terrible, alien noise. His mind, his vision, swam. He writhed against it, hooked talons slashing blindly. He felt himself lift forward, the cold fingers secure around his windpipe. And, again, he was slammed into the street. The second blow forced him back with a gasp, his now human hands grabbing, savage and clawing at Adonis’s fingers. His vision began to clear and he coughed, the triumphant, gloating grin of his enemy just inches above him. This was familiar. All disgustingly, horribly too familiar.

“Not so tough now, huh?” Adonis said. His voice lowered, darkening to a hissing whisper. "I know you can still turn into it. I can feel it. It's in your eyes right now. Why don't you come on out, werebeast?"

Beast Boy snarled, baring his teeth. He felt his nails burn. His hands had grown less human, fingertips replaced by long, curved claws. Starfire's anger, Raven's fury, wherever they were, still thickened the air like fog. It amplified his own rage; his sixth sense fed off it like a starved hound. Adonis laughed. His grip tightened, and Beast Boy gagged. Adonis kept talking, but it wasn't his face anymore. Beast Boy saw someone different. “You can't, can you? Not when you don't have room. You’re trapped like the little wimp you are! Can't get bigger. Can't get stronger.”

Through the haze in his head, the pain flooding his neck and chest, some dark... twisted part of him found that _funny_. The part of him that Eddie and Bates and Nicholas had molded. Had unknowingly nursed. The part that knew tricks, that schemed, that didn't play 'fair.' The part that would do anything to survive.

People always assumed the danger came with the big and the powerful. The elephant, the t-rex, the great white. It wasn’t entirely wrong. The size, the weight, the raw strength, muscle and teeth could deal massive damage fast. No one seemed to consider the real danger he could so easily possess. The one he could slip under their skin, rot them from the inside out.

Venom.

He could spit it in their eyes, burning the sensitive cells and maybe curse them with permanent blindness. He could inject them with the brush of a spine or puncture of tooth. It could even seep, ooze out of his pores like sweat, smeared into a mouth or an open wound before they realized or knew. 

Snake venom would burn like a match held to bare skin, turning blood to slush, to jam, clogging the vein. A box jellyfish sting would mar flesh, scarring you for life with horrible, stringy marks... _if_ you survived the fatal poison.

One prick of a cone snail’s spear and Adonis could be dead before he even hit the pavement.

It would be so easy. To reach up, swap the cells in his hand, trade a finger for a harpoon, produce a venom pouch in the crook of his arm. He could do it. He’d made his DNA do stranger things. _Alien_ things. There wasn't antivenom for a cone snail sting. Probably never would be. Muscle paralysis. Hallucinations. Respiratory failure. You either found a way to wait it out. Or you died.

 _Survive,_ he thought, a desperate and feral voice in his head, responding to the hand on his throat and the wild grin above him. _Survive. And make him pay. Make him regret. Make him learn._

 _No,_ he thought, gritting his teeth, closing his fingers against the glove. It was Eddie's face looming over him, now. He wanted to claw it. Wanted to let the burning, unforgiving venom blend with his blood. _He hurt you. Hurt him back._

The black crept in around the corners of his vision. His breaths were thinner, now. Strained. He could hear laughter. Feel phantom pains in his mouth, his ribs, the space around his eye. Bates' voice, mocking and cold. Just as it'd been when they caught him. When they beat him.

_When you pray for rain, you gotta deal with the mud, too. Eh, boy?_

Then, so fast he thought he imagined it, a flash of bright, electric pink.

It washed over Adonis like a splash of water, sparking, dancing through the layers of his suit. He froze, blinked, and they both turned their heads. Jinx stood maybe five feet away, her arm extended and palm open, fingers spread. The look in her eyes was dangerous. Angry.

Adonis opened his mouth, probably to challenge her, only for the motion to send his precious armor to ruin. It began to rust. Rapidly. So rapidly that pieces started to crumble to dust, sprinkling down across Beast Boy’s face and hands. He felt the metal grip loosen; the connection to his enemy's nervous system was weakening. The plating around his head broke away, revealing his frail frame. A horrified, confused expression filled Adonis’s features. He looked down a second too late.

Beast Boy arched his back, hiking one leg up so his knee flattened against his stomach and chest. He shot Adonis a savage grin, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“ _Nighty night, punda._ ”

He snapped his leg straight, the heel of his shoe slamming into Adonis’s now exposed face. His head flew back, and he slumped to the side.

Beast Boy scrambled backward and away, a hand reaching up to touch his throat. He sucked down air, coughing on it. The bruising skin burned. A small wave of nausea came and went. The fog in his mind dissolved to static, and the world around him slowly faded back into place.

Jinx stepped to his side, offering her hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. He reached up, gripping her wrist. She curled her fingers around his arm, helping him to his feet. “P-peachy. … thanks.”

She nodded as they released their hands. Beast Boy rubbed idly at his neck, the bone and muscle inflamed, stinging from the rough surface of the street. His entire head was throbbing. He could hear metal scraping a few feet away, and turned his eyes enough to see Starfire shoving one of the cars off of her, Raven jogging to her side. Her cloak was torn, battered across the ends. He wondered what had happened to cause that.

“Your head’s bleeding.”

Beast Boy glanced at Jinx. Her expression had softened only enough that the anger had dissolved, but she still appeared guarded. Tense. He pulled his hand off his neck, frowning at the smears of red on his gloves. “... yeah.” Nothing Raven couldn’t fix. He’d still have one hell of a headache later.

“What did you call him?”

He looked up, blinking. “Huh?”

Jinx planted her hands on her hips. “That word wasn’t English. I dunno what it was, but it couldn’t have been nice.”

Beast Boy stared at her. A hot, sinking feeling began to twist in his stomach. “... what… did I say?”

Her expression grew frustrated, but she didn’t snap at him. She rolled her jaw, seeming to turn the word over on her tongue and test the weight of it on her own. “‘Punda,’” she answered.

“Oh.” His throat went dry, causing the response to be hoarse and quiet. She noticed immediately, brows wrinkling.

“What does it mean?”

“... it’s … Swahili,” he answered dimly. “It means ‘donkey.’”

Something in her shoulders relaxed, and she snorted. “So. You called him an ass.”

Beast Boy shrugged.

“That’s fucking kind,” she said, casting a glare in Adonis’s direction. “I can think of at least _five_ other, more deserving names.”

She said something else but he didn’t hear her. He wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were trained on the blood on his glove, bile starting to rise in his throat as the last two minutes came rushing back to him.

He’d thought like them. He had. He’d resisted the encouraging words, the whispers, the knowledge that he could have ended it all with a touch of the right cells. It had been an option. One he refused to take, but... an option. He’d let it resurface from the depths he’d pushed, forced it into. He'd thought their influence was gone. He'd run away, escaped it. Apparently, he was wrong. It was still there. He'd used that word again.

 _You’re regressing._ The summer voice murmured. _You’re not listening; you're still deliberately disobeying orders. I thought we could teach you. But it seems you'd rather stick to what you know than what you've been taught. You’re still like them. Still mingling with criminals. Killers. Either you never learned anything from **her** , or you don’t care if it happens **again**. It's only a matter of time before she lets her H.I.V.E. friends into the Tower. _

His fingers curled until he could feel his nails through his gloves. His hand shook.

He’d called them killers. Even though one had given her life for a city full of strangers, who would never know her sacrifice. Even though the other had thrown away everything she'd ever known to be a better person. He’d called both of them… killers…

_You can’t say that. You never even **knew** her._

“Garfield?”

Beast Boy looked up. Starfire was leaning over, her expression brimming with worry. Raven stood by her side. He realized they’d been trying to get his attention, and it’d taken his real name to snap him out of it.

“What?” He asked.

“We were asking if you were hurt,” Starfire said. She extended a hand, gesturing at his closed fist, then to his head. “You are bleeding.”

“—oh. Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, the words a little too quick, echoing in his head. It throbbed, a dull, aching pain. “Just, uh. Might need a nurse. Heh.”

Raven stepped forward, recognizing the statement as a question. She lifted her fingers and pressed them with tenderness to the back of his head. It spiked a jolt of pain through his skin, the bone beneath it, and he winced. But he didn’t pull away. The wound grew cool. He sighed, grateful to be relieved of some of the pain already.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jinx muttered. She folded her arms and it was only now that Beast Boy realized she was still in her civvies. A leather jacket, platform boots—different from her uniform’s—torn leggings, a skirt and a pale pink top. “I left my com at my apartment while I went for groceries or whatever. It was going nuts when I walked in the door. Probably pissed my neighbors off, but we’ll call it karma for blasting their _fucking_ music at three in the morning. You guys owe me almond milk and ice cream; it’s probably spoiled and melted by now.”

She’d dropped everything to come and help them. It would have made him feel better… and given him a small burst of victory, enticed him to cast a boastful glance in his surrogate father's direction. _Don't you see?_ He'd say. _Don't you see the good she's doing? Why don't you ever see the good? Why do you refuse to see it in me?_

The police cars arrived within minutes. Jinx evaded conversation with the officers, as usual, exchanging wary glances with those who had nerve enough to look in her direction. Beast Boy and Starfire spoke with the lead officer; the report was brief and all business while Raven helped other members of the unit pry Adonis out of what parts of his suit hadn’t rusted away to dust. He was conscious now. Quiet, aside from the occasional bitter remark. Beast Boy glanced at him as he was shoved into the back of a patrol car. Adonis glared needles at him, the spot where Beast Boy’s heel had landed already swollen and splotched with sickly shades of yellow and purple. Beast Boy stared back, calm on the surface and expression unfazed. But anger. Confusion. Hurt. Lurked underneath.

It remained there. Bubbling. Boiling in his stomach, as they flew back to the Tower. Jinx turned down their invitation for dinner, claiming she’d already purchased a meal for tonight. It’d be the three of them again. The Tower would be quiet.

Gar fumbled with his gloves, chucking them into the washing machine. He didn’t need to clean his entire uniform but he was doing it anyway, almost unconsciously. It made sense. Why waste all that water for just washing his gloves? Stupid, impractical. He’d undressed in the washroom, stripped to his boxers. It was on the way to his room. Just seemed like a good idea instead of walking all the way there and back. Gave him too much time to think, too.

What happened? He hadn’t… he’d never… _NEVER_ … considered the consequences of cone snail venom so openly. _Never_. Was it because he’d been close to passing out? Was it something Adonis had said? What _had_ he said? He couldn’t remember.

“Garfield?”

The voice made him jump despite how gently it’d landed on his ears. He turned, spotting Kori in the washroom doorway. He didn’t feel any shame for being caught in his underwear. Not by her. And he knew she didn’t care, either.

“Oh. —heh. Hey, Kori. What’s up?”

Her small brows knitted together. Her lips pursed, folded. “Are you… alright?”

“Yeah?” He answered, feeling his smile shrink. “Rach took care of my head. Good as new! Almost.”

“No…” She hesitated, considering her words. He saw something new enter her eyes. A sharpness. A very subtle, cool sense of protection. She wasn’t looking at his eyes anymore, and he knew she wasn’t looking at his mostly bare body, either. She was looking at the dark bruising around his collar. He hadn’t asked Rachel to heal that. “... Adonis. Was he cruel? Did he speak wrongly to you?”

It was hardly a secret how much he despised Adonis. And it was even less a secret how much Adonis despised him. Gar shrugged, turning back to the washer. He busied his hands with the dials, the detergent’s lid, hoping the movements veiled how his fingers shook. “Nothing he hasn’t said before, Kori. It’s fine.”

She didn’t look convinced.

By the time he’d set the washer, pretended to search the dryer for an article of clothing, she had left. He sighed a shaken breath, exiting the washroom and making a beeline down the hall. His room door slid shut behind him and he stood still, for a moment, hugging his arms around his lower chest. After a few seconds, he realized his fingers were wandering, tracing faded scar tissue on his arms, the bumps left behind by needles, the still visible teeth-marks on his right bicep. Where the monkey had bitten him. Where this had all began.

Gar dropped his arms, shuffling to his closet. He felt cold, suddenly. A hoodie, a pair of sweats, sounded awesome right now. Pretty sure he had those stuffed in the back somewhere.

He found and tugged on them, grunting when they resisted. This closet really needed a cleaning. It was getting to the point even he couldn’t deny that for much longer. Gar adjusted his fingers on the pants leg, giving it a sharper, more meaningful pull. The sweatpants popped free and, with them, a small flurry of miscellaneous junk toppled free, too. He danced out of the way, growling at himself under his breath. Great. Now the mess is worse. What was _wrong_ with him today? Why couldn’t he be more careful…

The thought trailed off. His mind drew a soft, quiet blank.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, lying in the mess of the floor. It was dusty after not having been touched for months. Maybe even a whole year. But that didn’t stop it from catching the light on its smooth, silvery surface.

The heart-shaped box, crafted by his own stupid and clumsy hands, stared back at him. It took several seconds for him to realize he’d stopped breathing. And when he started again it dragged into his lungs, slow, thick and hot. Confusion and hurt turned to anger, turned to fury, turned to piping, boiling rage. But he wasn’t mad at _her_. He wasn’t even mad at Slade.

Gar bent, snatched the heart off the floor. He whirled on his heel and stormed towards the wastebasket. His arm drew back, hand gripping the box and ready to chuck it, shatter it, into the trash. But he didn’t bring it down. He stood, frozen, hand and arm shaking as his muscles strained.

He couldn’t do it. Even if he _wanted_ to… he _couldn’t_.

His arm shuddered as it lowered, the heart box now cradled between his hands as delicately as a baby bird. His thumbs idled the edges, feeling small lumps where he’d made a mess with the glue gun or a stray slice of tape. He’d actually given this to her, hadn’t he? … stupid. He didn’t have the verbal skills Vic had, Kori’s warmth and sincerity, Rachel’s romantic and elegant edge. He was just… stupid. Embarrassing. And this dumb little box was a testament to that.

Gar sank to the side, sitting on the edge of the lower bunk. He felt his shoulders sag. It wasn’t a good idea to open it. He _shouldn’t_ open it. Yet his thumb found its way to the heart’s point, and he pressed.

The top lifted with a faint whine. Inside was nothing but the mirror and a single strip of photo booth pictures. His eyes fell on the strip in an instant and, with trembling and unsteady fingers, he pulled it from the box.

They looked so young… the two of them. Smiling, silly… one of them blissfully unaware of the shadow at their heels. It was the last time he’d see her like this. Blue eyes bright. Lips parted in a goofy little grin that was signature to her and her alone. Carefree. He could almost hear her laughing again, feel her shoulder brush his and the heat her touch brought to his face. Giddy and boyish. But he couldn’t remember it fondly. It was tainted, now. It always had been. Each and every moment, ending with the reality of betrayal. And how he’d done nothing. How he'd made it worse.

Something thick, hard and sour grew in his throat. He swallowed. It only made the backs of his eyes burn, and his lungs felt tight.

“... I’m sorry,” he whispered. As he had hundreds of times before. To her old room. To her pictures. To what was left of her, down in the caves. It was too little too late. He hadn’t said it when she was… alive. He should have. She deserved that much. She deserved more.

He’d revisited that cruel place today. Been tempted to resort to the worst he could think of. It would be easy to blame it on Adonis, say the jerk had dug it out of the places he’d been so careful to bury it. But that wasn’t entirely true. And it wasn’t just Adonis who had dragged it to the surface, hissing like a cobra. Steve— _no_. … Mento… had, too. Slowly. Over the length of the summer. But he couldn’t shoulder the blame, either. The fact that it was there… that it had even been considered an option at all. That was on _him_. That was _his_ fault.

That part of him was still there. After all these years… after all the good he’d tried so desperately to do… it hadn’t been enough. And it never would be… would it?

_You **can’t** say that. You never even **knew** her._

Gar squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the response before it could come. When he opened his eyes again, he placed the photo strip back in the box and shut the lid as though it might shatter. It was placed on the lower bunk pillow. He left it there and returned to the closet. He felt heavy. Tired. And as he collected his sweatpants and hoodie from the floor, his phone pinged.

One ear lifted. Gar raised his head. He stepped into the pants and pulled them on, tugging the hoodie over his head as he crossed the room back to the bed. The glow of his phone went out just as he reached it, and he clicked the lock screen back on.

Five messages. Three from Bette, probably an attempt to continue their conversation from this morning. One from Casper maybe an hour ago, probably a question regarding the Halloween invites Kori had sent out a couple days prior. The most recent, and final, one was from Wally. He hesitated before swiping his thumb across the screen and punching in his passcode.

> [forceofnature, 1:46pm]: you there?

Gar swallowed, feeling his eyes narrow. He wondered if Kori had expressed her concerns to the speedster. Or if his 'Wally senses' had just started to tingle, sensing a disturbance in the force. He sighed, taking the phone in both hands and tapping his thumbs on the keyboard.

> [alligartor, 1:49pm]: hey dude! sup
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:50pm]: nothin! online hw today. chillin. you?
> 
> [alligartor, 1:52pm]: lmao enjoying NO hw thank u ver much
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:52pm]: ;P pffffff

Maybe Kori didn’t say anything.

> [forceofnature, 1:53pm]: twitter feed said you guys had attempted robbery?

Or... maybe she had.

> [alligartor, 1:55pm]: yeah! took care of it. easy stuff.
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:55pm]: everyone okay?
> 
> [alligartor, 1:58pm]: super. you shouldve seen the look on his face when ajaya showed up and fried his suit. wish id had the camera with me. 
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:58pm]: she’s getting so good at the heroic timing thing. very proud.

Gar stared at the message. He turned absently, sinking, slow, onto the bottom bunk without thinking. His thumbs twitched above the screen’s keyboard, and he inhaled, so his lower lip rolled in, nursing it with his teeth. Somehow, his eyes found their way from the screen. They trailed from his phone, to the bed sheets, to the silver box placed on his pillow. Something twisted in his stomach, reaching up into his ribs with cold, deceptively gentle fingers, and brushed against his heart. He swallowed as his thumbs moved silently.

_hey can i ask you a question?_

His right thumb hovered over the ‘send’ icon. His fang dug into his lip, the pressure only easing when he felt the sting to alert him skin would break if he chewed any harder. A long moment passed. Then, he exhaled, and he dropped his thumb. The message backspaced, erased and gone in two short seconds. A new one quickly replaced it.

> [alligartor, 2:01pm]: yeah! she’s great. kinda wish she’d hang at the tower more tho. hope shes not lonely.

It was genuine. Every last word.

He couldn’t… shouldn’t ask Wally about this. Wally had enough on his plate as it was, already stretching himself thin. He was Flash, now. A member of the Justice League. With a city to watch, world-wide--even universe-wide--missions to attend. Friends, even rivals, to check in on. Classes and a job to boot. Aunt Iris, too, even if she didn’t need taking care of, he knew Wally was concerned. He’d seen it a couple days ago when she’d waved them out of the house. He’d felt it. The last thing Wally needed was another weight wedged onto his shoulders. Another person, another thing to worry about. It wasn’t Wally’s problem, anyway.

> [forceofnature, 2:02pm]: give her time dude. its been overwhelming for her i’m sure. she’s still getting used to things, y’know? it’s a big change, even if it has been a couple years.
> 
> [alligartor, 2:05pm]: no i understand. just don’t want her to feel like we don’t like her. or don’t trust her.

He did understand. Maybe not completely, maybe not in the same way. But he got it. His own adjustment, coming from the depths of Africa and back to the States, had been unnerving. Four years, hidden, lost to the criminal underbelly. His absence at the compound had never been reported. It was like he’d never existed. A literal cat in a bag, smuggled from theft to theft, ‘job’ to ‘job.’ To be in the public light--not only the son of long-missing biologists, but looking the way he did--had been… a shock. It wasn’t exactly the same transition, from criminal to hero, that Ajaya had chosen to go through. And that was probably the key difference. She’d _chosen_ to step away from criminal life, whereas he had merely been freed from it. There was strength in that choice. To throw away everything she’d known and stood for. And she’d been working hard. Cooperating, helping, dealing with the bitter ‘allies’ she’d left behind. Not to mention the cold words muttered behind her back. From social media. From some of the police ...from Mento.

The taste in his mouth soured, and he pressed his lips together.

Yeah… he definitely couldn’t ask Wally. He’d shut the summer door, left it behind as August faded. To ask would be to risk dragging it back, prying it open again. And it’d hurt him to know that someone in his friend’s family looked at their new teammate with such scorn. Wally and Ajaya may not feel romantically for each other anymore, and hadn’t for a while, but… they still loved each other. Of _course_ they did; how couldn’t they? Gar loved Kori, loved Rachel, loved Vic. He didn’t want to upset Wally and, by extension, Ajaya. Or, worse, make her feel like she wasn’t wanted. Like she didn’t belong ...he understood that, too.

> [forceofnature, 2:06pm]: like i said give her time. she likes you guys even if she doesn’t show it. I think she’s happy. just, y’know… cautious.
> 
> [alligartor, 2:07pm]: yeah.

A sigh escaped him, and he rubbed the side of his face. His hand trailed to his neck, and he winced when it came to a stop just above the bruise. It was tender, now. Would probably be worse in the morning. Still wasn’t going to ask Rachel to heal it, though. He knew what tolls the process took on her; the head injury had been asking enough.

His phone pinged in his hand, and he looked back down.

> [forceofnature, 2:09pm]: hey
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:09pm]: seriously are you okay?

Gar smiled, though it felt weak.

> [alligartor, 2:11pm]: yeah! a bit bruised but ive had worse. lol.

There was a pause this time. He knew Wally was debating if he should press, or if he should accept. Another soft ping.

> [forceofnature, 2:13pm]: cool! good. glad to hear it.
> 
> [alligartor, 2:14pm]: hang on i can make a emoji. imogene tried to teach me.
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:14pm]: oh no
> 
> [alligartor, 2:17pm]: (＾＾)ｂ
> 
> [alligartor, 2:18pm]: that was harder than it should have been
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:18pm]: but worth it! it’s cute ;0

He smiled again. A little wider. A little more earnest. There was a tiny tickle in his ribs as his thumbs moved across the screen.

> [alilgartor, 2:20pm]: haha! okay well. you have hw to do. should let you get back to that.
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:20pm]: it would take five minutes if my internet connection weren’t SO SLOW oTL
> 
> [alligartor, 2:22pm]: oooohhh noooooo… the internet is ~”slow”~
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: wow
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: ouch
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: you just
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: don’t understand
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: the struggle
> 
> [alligartor, 2:23pm]: dude chill
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: that is
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: watching a page load
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:23pm]: for over 2 seconds

Gar laughed. It felt good. He felt… better. Lighter. Grateful.

> [alligartor, 2:25pm]: seriously tho go study or read or whatever. ace the tests. all that good stuff.
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:26pm]: IF I MUST.
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:27pm]: i’ll text tomorrow. K? wanna know what the status is on your camera. hope we can take it to get developed soon! remember: snap what you FEEL is important. even if it’s small. be merciful to rach.
> 
> [alligartor, 2:30pm]: i will wally. promise. thanks again btw.
> 
> [forceofnature, 2:31pm]: anytime, dude. later!

He sat for a moment, rereading the string of messages. Then he clicked off his phone, letting it drop onto the mattress with a sigh and slumping back, so he rested against the wall. His eyes fixed on what of the ceiling he could see from beneath the upper layer of the bunk bed, holding the stare for a second or two before his gaze drifted, falling again on the heart-shaped box. He reached out, letting his fingers rest on its side. It didn’t feel right… putting it back where it’d fallen from. So when he pulled away and pushed to his feet, he left it on the pillow.

Gar tugged at his sleeves, wedging his phone in the sweatpants pocket as he strode to his door. Kori and Rachel were probably making lunch or had already eaten. It was well past the usual hour, and it’d been a while since they’d had a meal. Hanging out with them would help. He and Kori still needed to pick a tattoo design. One of them needed to call, settle the actual appointment (Kori said this was good etiquette; she’d done her research).

His room door slid shut behind him, and he exhaled as he moved down the hall. He lifted a hand, touched the sore skin still exposed by the collar of his hoodie. The muscle there twitched, sending a shudder through his shoulders.

_Make him pay. Make him regret. Make him learn. He hurt you. Hurt him back._

Gar swallowed, curling his fingers until they gripped the fabric, squeezing it. He released the breath he held, tilting his head back as he slid into the elevator. He thumbed the OPs Room button and leaned into the wall. Despite the haze and soft blur of the metallic surface, he could still make out the shape of his reflection staring down at him on the elevator ceiling. He looked down, twisting one of the hood strings around and around his fingers.

He didn't want to think about it anymore.


	7. enolA

He wasn’t sure how, or when, he’d gotten out here. Sleepwalking? No, that wasn’t it. Maybe… he’d been too drowsy to know he’d started to wander. It wasn't uncommon for him to shamble through the mornings, misplacing his cereal in the fridge and sitting down at the table, only to ask five minutes later where his bowl had gone. But that didn’t make sense, either. Because why would he go outside? And why would he have gone so far that he could no longer see the path indoors?

Despite the thick, grayish-white fog, Gar knew he was still on the Tower’s island. He was away from the training field, away from Kori’s garden. Looking, now, he realized he couldn’t even see what should have been vibrant oranges, golds, and blues through the blanket of silver. He was down by the island edge, where the ocean licked the rocks, foam bubbling as it glazed the surface and dissolved. At least some of the flowers in the garden should have been visible from here. They had a habit of creeping, spreading their eager little roots further than Kori had planned. He could see the Tower. A large, looming ‘T’ rising from the fog like a beacon. None of the lights were on, but moonlight reflected off its windows, creating the illusion that it was glowing. He couldn’t see the moon. But its presence could be felt in the illuminated fog and the pull of the waves.

The air almost seemed wet and cold; he could feel water droplets forming on the tips of his ears, on the back of his neck and hairline. A prickle crawled through his skin, slow and delicate, walking the length of his spine and spreading down his arms. He felt eerily calm. Placid. Too distracted by the pale yellow, pale blue, of the sky, as though he was standing beneath early morning. But, somehow it was still dark as night.

Gar's ear flicked the collected droplets from his skin, and he gradually became aware of the waves crashing on the island. They sounded… distorted. Echoey. Kind of like TV or radio static. He couldn’t tell when one ended and the other began. The air also lacked the smell of salt, even though the shoreline was mere feet away. It smelled fresh, earthy. Everything felt like a haze, like the fog that surrounded him had seeped beneath his skin and dulled his senses, his thoughts and memory. All of these things, combined with the mystery of how he arrived in this spot, should have alarmed him. Or, at the very least, give him reason to wonder and question. But it didn’t. He simply stood where he was, staring listlessly into the endless horizon.

“I’m glad you came.”

The voice, soft and timid, came from behind him. Despite no hints of approach or prior warning sound, he didn't jump or flinch. Gar turned around, blinking.

Tara sat on the rocks by the water’s edge. Right where she’d been that first night. She was curled up, hunched over, so her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin propped on her knees. Her back, to him. He recognized her clothes; they were the layered shirts and tattered jean shorts she’d been wearing when they’d met her. Her hair swayed, billowed, around her neck and ears in a breeze he realized wasn’t there. It was weightless, somehow, as though she were underwater.

Without thinking, he approached her. He sat down on the rock beside her. Where he’d been that first night. The fog twisted, slow and mesmerizing, as though it knew the familiar setting and the view they'd had. Some of it peeled away from the open water, gliding the way fingers might from veiled eyes. As he settled down, turned to face her, he stiffened a little. Her eyes glowed a pale yellow, filling from her pupils all through where the whites should be. Her hair, a mess of golden tendrils, continued to drift through the air around her. She didn't look at him. Didn't move.

“I hate being alone,” she muttered.

He stared at her for a long moment, almost hoping she’d turn her head. When she remained still as the stone she once commanded, he shifted away and looked to the ocean through the fog. He curled up, mirroring her posture, and rested a cheek on his knee. “Yeah. ...me, too.”

They fell silent, watching the gray mist swirl along the ocean surface until it formed odd little patterns. Gar noticed some shapes beyond the rising waves, within the black beyond. He stays quiet, watching them as they drift through the haze. The static of the waves had gotten louder, a dull roar in his ears. And something about that felt wrong or... out of place. It was beginning to make him nervous, planting a familiar jittery feeling in his chest. One with deep roots that burrowed into his organs and ribs. It didn't matter how many times he dug it up, tore it out, threw it away. Those tangled roots were buried too deep; one way or another, it would always grow back. It just needed the right nourishment. 

“You don’t have to be.”

Gar blinked. He looked at Tara, frowning. “...What?”

She continued to stare ahead, expression calm. “You don’t have to be alone.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze downward. The water near their feet was strangely tranquil, reflective as the surface of a clean mirror. It shouldn’t be like that. He could hear the waves, still, rumbling against the rocks. The water should be churning, should be bubbling and foaming. But he can see them. Both of them. Perfectly clear on the flat, quiet sheet. She’s wearing her Titan uniform, now. The yellow of her shorts, of the ‘T’ insignia on her chest, seeming to glow with the intensity of her eyes. She’s looking down now, too. He can’t tell if she’s staring at her reflection or at his.

“You should tell them,” she says, her voice barely audible above the sound of the sea. It was louder. Booming. Crashing. A continuous noise with no visible source. Water sprayed, sprinkling and misting against his ankles, wrist, and cheeks, felt even through his uniform. He bit his lip, gnawing the skin to the point it should have started to bleed. The metallic taste of blood never touched his tongue.

“I don’t…” he trails off, sighing. Then, quieter, he mutters. “I just… don’t want them to worry. You know? It’s not something they need to worry about. It’s _my_ problem. It’s not even _that_ bad.”

“Not that bad?”

Her voice was faint, now. But… somehow, he could still hear it. A whisper, no louder than the hiss of foam on the roaring waves.

“It’s been worse,” he said. “A _lot_ worse. And I’ve been… stupid.”

Her reflection frowned. Genuine, concerned sadness. “Stupid?”

Gar opened his mouth. Paused.

He sighed, planting a hand on the rock behind him and turning to face the Tower. Or… where the Tower _should_ have been.

It was gone. Fog filled where it had stood, twisting, slow and seemingly stable, in its place. Most of the island had disappeared, too. They were sitting on a small piece of earth only a couple feet in diameter, as though what remained of the island was nothing more than a raft lost at sea. The mainland wasn’t anywhere in sight.

He blinked a couple times as a spray of water dusted his face. The roar of the waves was near deafening, now; it filled his ears, his head, his chest, to the point he could feel the sensation of his ribs shivering. That sense of calm he’d carried with at the beginning of the night… it was gone. Dissolved like the whites of the waves as the distant water churned.

Gar rotated to face forward, twisting to look at her again. “Tara--...”

She was gone. Thin, silvery mist ghosted across the rocks where she'd been sitting.

“... Terra?”

He'd said her real name. Or. He'd _meant_ to say her real name. His tongue, his lips, had chosen to form her alias, instead.

He looked down, back to his reflection. Hers was still there, sat beside him and unmoved. Her arms draped around her legs, chin on her knees, hair billowing slow and wistful around her face and neck. Her eyes glowed pale yellow.

“Beast Boy?”

Her voice came from every direction, a weak echo above the waves. He couldn’t pinpoint it. And, for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But her lips moved again, and it came faster, alarm rising as she lifted a hand towards him.

“Beast Boy??”

Gar leaned forward on the rocks. He didn’t know why, but he felt an impulse to reach out--grab her arm, pull her out of the water that had trapped her. But as he did, his fingers hit the water’s surface and stopped, acting as though he’d run into something solid. He recoiled, blinking.

"Terra?"

In the reflection, a shadow rose behind him. Towered over him. Sturdy. Armored. _Familiar_. He felt his heart stop, his breath hitch. Panic jolted his muscles to life. He whirled, scrambling to stand and face the figure.

The island was gone. The fog was gone. The ocean was gone. But the sound, the thunder and hiss of the waves, was not.

Gar stood in a dark room connecting to multiple corridors; the walls were lined with mirrors, each built to the same height and width. They all looked identical, blending together so they were impossible to tell apart or to count. His reflection surrounded him, repeating in a seemingly endless stream of duplicates, all tense, confused and shivering. The air still felt murky and cold. Water droplets stuck to the back of his neck, his ears, his cheeks. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He turned in a circle. In another. Tara was nowhere in sight. He was alone.

“Terra?! Can you hear me?!”

Again, her alias. He hadn’t wanted to say that.

His cry echoed, reverberating through the room. Then, her voice replied. Panicked.

“Beast Boy?!”

As soon as her call reached his ears, one of the mirrors to his left abruptly cracked and shattered. Water poured out of it, spreading across the floor in a white rush. He sprang away from it. Another mirror, this one behind him, burst. Gar whirled. More water gushed out of it. The stream was cold. It was already up to his ankles, chilling his toes and scraping into his flesh. The savage roar filled his ears again, shook his ribcage, tightened his breath in his throat. It was hard to think. It was even hard to see. Between the mirrors, the wild flow of the water, he felt dizzy and sick. He spun around, eyes wide and fearful. But he wasn’t afraid for himself.

“Terra--where _ARE_ you!?” He called out again. Gar waded forward, arms raising as another mirror cracked, shattered, spewed a raging stream.

“Beast Boy??”

Gar forced himself to straighten, his ears swiveling in a desperate attempt to lock onto the direction her cry had come from. Everything felt muddy. The snarl of the water drowned out all other sound. He let out a sharp breath and shot forward, running through the twisting water with all the speed he could muster. The mirrors on either side of him reflected his image as he tore past, creating the illusion that he was running in place. There was a current beneath the water’s surface. He could feel it, pulling at his feet, its cold, digging fingers angry. Hungry.

“ **Beast Boy!!** "

His mouth opened to call back but a second voice rose immediately after. A woman’s. Wild. Desperate. Shaking.

_“FLY!!”_

His heart hammered in his chest. He threw himself forward on instinct, arms and fingers spread to--

\--Gar grunted as his hands rushed to stop his fall. They broke through the water and hit the ground beneath it, casting a cold splash against his chin and neck. He coughed once, and his fingers curled against the powerful current as he clambered to stand.

He couldn’t shift. Why couldn’t he shift?

Again, he tore forward. The undertow clawed at his legs and ankles, slowing him, tripping him. A weak, devastated sort of sound emitted from his throat as he stumbled again. He managed to right himself, heavy and cold and quivering. Only for another mirror to break, dumping the frozen torrent over him and sending him falling, sliding clumsily into the opposite wall. Coughing, mouth and lungs choking on the bitter flood, he somehow found his footing and pressed on.

The mirrors flew past. Faster than he was moving. He tried to turn down one hall only to find it was another mirror. Tried to reach out, place his hand on a surface to balance himself, only to stumble through when it wasn’t really there. Still, he ran forward, breath ragged and harsh in his throat. Terror pooled in his core, amplified by the wild flow and roar of the water.

“ _TERRA?!_ ”

His voice echoed. The current changed. It dragged him off his feet, but he caught himself on his hands, spitting as the water hit his mouth. The chilling spray felt like dull nails, pulling slow on his skin. He tried to shift again. Couldn’t.

“Beast Boy?!”

His ears burned and he dug his toes into what ground he could grip, shoving forward. She sounded close. She _had_ to be. He moved to the mirrors, pressing his hands against them, almost scratching at them as he side-stepped forward. One of his hands swiped empty air--a hallway--, and he launched into it.

She sprinted into an opening up ahead, eyes wide and knees quaking. Gar's legs worked desperately to quicken, but the water’s undertow pulled him back. He cursed it, fighting, writhing against it and grabbing wildly at the air for some invisible form of purchase. The water released him as she began to turn, and his heart thundered in his chest.

“ _Terra!!_ ” He cried. “Terra, I’m--”

His face, body, knees, hit something solid and cold as brick. Gar yelped as he dropped. There was a splash, and the water slid over him like a cool sheet, engulfing him. For a fleeting moment, he couldn’t move or think or breathe. Then, he squirmed. His hands found the floor, and he shoved, gasping as he broke the surface. He panted. Looked up.

A long, endless mirror stretched out in front of him, reaching from one end of the room's shadowy horizon to the other. The water no longer rushed; it pooled, instead, to form a still standing lake as far as his eyes could see. He turned back to the mirror, confused and rattled through mind and body. Then, he saw her.

She hadn’t entered the area and she hadn’t been there the whole time. She was just suddenly… _there_. Knelt in the space behind his reflection, hands buried in the hair against her scalp. She was crying. --Wasn’t she? And she wasn’t waist-high in water. The ground around her was dry.

Gar whirled to look behind him. She wasn’t there. But when he looked forward, into the mirror, she was. She still kneeled on the ground. Shoulders hitching. His ears twitched as he heard the quake on her breath.

He scrambled forward and through the water on his hands and knees, wobbling to his feet as his palms flattened against the mirror’s surface.

_Terra!!_

He’d opened his mouth and shouted, but nothing came out. Just air. Instead, his voice had echoed only in his own head.

She didn’t move.

Gar began to pound his fists on the blockade between them, scratch and dig at it with his bare nails. He tried to morph into something big--something strong--anything destructive. His hands remained themselves; boney, thin fingers and frustratingly human. Gar inhaled, turning and running several steps to the left. He kept his hands on the mirror, but it didn’t give, didn’t disappear, didn't open in a path to the space beyond. He continued trying to shout her name, but his voice failed. It only sounded in his head; a shout faint as a whisper.

Despite his attempts, Tara hadn’t budged. She remained where she was. Again, he tore at the surface, slammed his hands, his fists, against it until his skin burned and his bones cried in protest. He took a step back and twisted, slamming his heel into the glass. Pain shot through his leg. The mirror held. And he began punching again. Until his efforts grew slower, weaker. Exhausted.

He slumped forward, forehead pressed against the chilled surface. His breath came in short, brisk pants, fingers curling until his nails burrowed into his palms. On the other side of the mirror, Tara sniffed. He could hear her breath as it strained against an internalized pain.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a weak whisper, shaking as it entered the air. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Gar squeezed his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

“Then why did you let it?”

His eyes sprang open, so wide it actually hurt. His breath froze in his lungs. Solid. Hard. Heavy.

Gar pushed off the mirror, looking up. His stomach dropped, twisting sickeningly. His reflection, once leaning into him as he'd pressed against the mirror, had turned away. ‘He’ was facing Tara, now, 'his' hands clenched and shivering at his sides. 'His' shoulders were raised, squared. Gar felt his throat tighten. He slowly began to shake his head, palms flattening once more on the mirror’s surface. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and slammed a fist against the glass. It thudded dully.

 _DON’T._ He tried to shout. His voice never touched his ears. Silent air replaced it.

“I don’t know, okay?” Tara said. He watched as she got to her feet. She looked frightened. Desperate. “I don’t know. Slade, he helped me. Saved me from myself. He said I owed him...”

“So it was all a game?” ‘He’ demanded. He could hear the pain in his own voice. The hurt, the confusion, all twisting itself into defensive anger. To hide the ache. To hide his own consuming fear. “You were just pretending?!”

Gar shook his head, pounding on the mirror. He beat his knee into it, ignoring the jolt ringing in his bones.

 _NO!!_ He cried. Or, tried to. _NO!! DON’T. DON’T--YOU’LL DRIVE HER AWAY._

“No. You said you’d be my friend no matter what, remember?”

_Please, don’t. Don’t. It’s exactly what he wants, you idiot--!_

‘He’ turned away from her. ‘He’ faced himself. Gar froze, breath caught at the back of his throat. In his own eyes, he could see it. Recognize it. Traces of that voiceless whisper.  _She... hurt... you_. He shook his head, exhaling in a shaken gust.

_That's not the answer! That's not--_

“Slade was right.”

_\--PLEASE._

“You don’t have any friends.”

Gar ducked his head, squeezed his eyes shut before he could glimpse her expression. He heard a strained, broken cry. It’d come from him. And he beat his fists against the mirror, shoved into it, brought his knee to the glass again and again. But it remained unrelenting.

_You idiot. You **IDIOT**. What were you thinking? What were you THINKING?_

His legs eventually gave way, weak and throbbing, and he slid against the mirror as he sank to his knees. His eyes stung. When he opened them, blinking the scalding tears away, he realized the water had disappeared. His reflection, her image, was gone. There was nothing but the sound of his own scratching breath, thick and wet as it left his lungs. He squeezed his hands closed, that breath hitching as his gaze bore into the solid ground under his knees. He inhaled, grit his teeth, drew back his arm with a finalizing, furious scream.

Pain. _Real_ pain. Exploded in his knuckles and wrist.

Gar’s eyes opened, and he gasped.

His bare hand had struck forward, knuckles, fingers, dug into the wall. He stared, slowly becoming aware that he wasn't sitting anymore. That he was lying on his side. That his breath was coming in thick, heavy gusts. That his body felt cold, wet, sticky with sweat.

He twisted to look over his shoulder, the blankets tangled around his body resisting his attempt at first. Through the darkness, aided by gentle moonlight glowing on the other side of his window glass, he could recognize the shape of his room. A couple lumps of clothes on the floor. His backpack, empty now, tossed against the wall. Other junk in scattered piles, waiting to be labeled as garbage or donated or returned to its place on a shelf.

It’d … been a dream. … of course it had. Of course, it’d been a dream.

Gar exhaled, a faint, whimper of a noise shuddering out with it. There was a crusty, gluey feeling on his cheeks and around his eyes and nose. Half-dried tears. Probably snot, too. He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his palm, arms shaking as he pushed to sit up in bed. His uniform stuck to him like a second skin, peeling away from his actual flesh in a way that made him grimace. A small sob found its way out of his throat.

He kicked the blanket off his legs, wiggled his arms free. One look around the upper bunk, and he realized Deep Blue was nowhere to be seen. He must have knocked her from the mattress during the nightmare, banishing her to the floor below. Sure enough, he spotted her when he peered over the side of the bed. She lay on her back, toothy grin visible in the moonlight.

His legs felt like jelly as he rolled to hang off the top bunk, then drop to the floor. The landing stuck. Barely. He had to reach out, grab hold of the ladder to steady himself. He sniffed, smearing the back of his hand across his eyes as he ducked to pick the plush shark off the ground. And as he straightened, pushed onto his toes to nudge her back into place above, his eyes caught a new glimmer of light. He looked down.

The heart-shaped box sat on the lower bunk’s pillow. Right where he’d left it almost a week ago. The silver moonlight, caught on its smooth surface, gave the illusion that it was glowing.

Gar shrank away from the bunk bed, his arms wrapping around his chest. He stood, trembling, on the spot for several seconds, until he slowly turned to shamble towards his door. His face, his arms, his body, still felt cold and heavy. He wanted to get rid of it.

He exited his room and stepped down the hall. His feet moved mindlessly, causing his toes to drag and his balance to wobble every couple paces. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop sniveling. He rubbed his cheeks, his eyes and his nose until the tender skin began to raw, but the tears, the broken breaths, kept coming.

“Stop it,” he hissed, fingers pressing against his eyes. “ _Stop it_ … stop…”

The bathroom door slid open, and he stumbled inside. His hands ran across the counter, fumbling until they found the sink and faucet. He gripped the handles and twisted them, flinching when the water began to run. Gar planted his hands on the counter, head bowed, so he stared through the water stream, through the marble, itself. He tried to force it down. Bottled, thrown back into the listless waters where it'd be lost to everyone, even himself. He exhaled and shoved his hands under the water, letting it pool in his palms before bringing it to his face. It was lukewarm. Not hot enough to sting, not cold enough to claw. And he brought it, again and again, over his eyes and nose and mouth, rubbing with the heels of his palms, the tips of his fingers. The dried and fresh tears began to wash away. He rinsed until he could feel his skin breathe, even burn and tingle a little from all the friction it'd undergone.

Gar shook his head, shut off the faucet. He reached to the side and snatched a towel off the hook, drying himself. He lowered it to wipe his hands and forearms dry, too. And he froze.

His reflection stared back at him through the mirror. Eyes swollen and red. His hair, a tangle. Expression strained, painful and broken. Even in the low light… he could see everything. Every line. How his lips had begun to quiver. His features, twisting as his stomach hardened and a bitter taste swelled in his throat. It was building. Rising. Slowly, at first. Then all at once.

The words… his own words… echoed in his head as they had days before.

_You can’t say that. You never even knew her._

But this time, the response that had followed just months before, in the heat of argument and July, came with them. Sharp. Harsh. No restraint.

_Did you ever stop to think that maybe: **neither did you**._

Emotions, feelings he'd never be able to fully identify, swarmed him. Swallowed. Consumed him. It zapped the strength from his legs. It dragged a cry, broken and shrill and defiant, out of his throat. New tears burned his eyes, and he choked, gagged, on a sob. In the overwhelm of emotion, the haze of the tears, everything around him blurred. His hands dragged across and down the counter as he sank, kneeling, then tipping onto his side. He could hear his own voice as he wept, as though it were coming from someone else. He pressed his hands over his eyes, both trying to stop the onslaught of senses and to hide from it. But it ripped through him in shaken waves, confused gasps and strained wails, tearing him open and dragging all that he’d bottled and buried to his surface.

Fury and remorse and pain and fear and regret and sorrow and humiliation and guilt and want and loneliness and demons he didn't have names for.

Tangled. Twisted. Suffocating.

He struck out with his heel at some invisible threat, yelping when it made contact with a cabinet door, cracking. The pain seared, vibrating up to his knee. He didn't care.

He curled into himself, dragged his hands across his face until they gripped the back of his head, fingers digging into his hair and scalp until his skin screamed loud enough to tell him he was awake this time. And he lay there. Trembling. Crying. A child-like rage, desolation, and loss of control. Apologizing, again and again to her, to what could have been and what never would be.

Until the tears no longer came.

Until his throat ached, dry and raspy.

Until his voice, and the wails that had scratched his lungs, were nothing more than soundless, hollow breaths.


	8. Feathers and Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i wanted to extend a great big "thank you" to everyone who's read, kudos'd and commented on the fic so far. your support and encouragement has meant the world to me and i honestly can't show my gratitude enough.
> 
> i also wanted to let y'all know that chapter updates may be coming a bit slower, now, both due to length and also my art/drawing activities. waits between chapters shouldn't be too bad, i'm just saying it won't be a once-a-week kind of thing. but yes!! thank you so, SO much for everything and i hope you enjoy! c:

He didn't know how he'd done it. Just that his muscles must have decided the bathroom floor wasn't an ideal place to be. Still heaving for breath, limbs weak and exhausted, he'd peeled himself from the tile and found his way out.

The walk back to his room had somehow been weightless and heavy at the same time. His feet dragged. His arms shook, gripping each other as though he feared they might fall off his shoulders. He felt light in the head and dizzy, blinking as his steps carried him down the hall. He only seemed to return to some form of consciousness once he'd re-entered his room.

Gar crawled back onto the top bunk. Somehow, he’d thought enough to grab his 3DS beforehand. He wedged himself in the corner at the head of the mattress, back against the wall and sheets over his head in a makeshift tent. A hideaway. The glow from the 3DS screen burned his eyes, but they were too tired to water. He blinked until they adjusted on their own. And within minutes, he was swept into the gentle little world of Animal Crossing.

Fatigue hung over him like a cloud, dripping soporific rain into his bones, his muscles, his mind. He felt himself begin to nod. Realized his hands were drifting to his lap. He shook himself, forcing a sense of awareness back into place. Tired, drained, as he was, he didn't want to risk going back to that place. He _couldn't_ go back to that place. He couldn't face her again.

Gar hadn’t looked at a clock upon entering his room again (or, if he had, he hadn’t registered the time), so he’d no way of knowing just how long he sat on his bed. Or how long he’d been lying on the bathroom floor, for that matter. Just that after a while, his stomach began to gurgle. He allowed his attention to leave the villagers just long enough to acknowledge it might be getting to mid-morning by now; he could see traces of sunlight trying to leak through his sheets from the window. He was grateful that he had a habit of sleeping in. No one would question why he hadn’t wandered down for breakfast yet. He'd gone long periods without food before. Holding out until he was confident his teammates had spread themselves throughout the Tower, away from the OPs Room and kitchen, would be easy. Gar returned to the game with a small sigh, searching the rivers for fish.

Minutes passed before he felt it. A slow, creeping chill. It started at the base of his spine and worked its way into his stomach, forming a small, familiar, ‘cold stone.’ He went still, stylus hovering above the touch-screen. _Please don’t come this way,_ he thought, beginning to chew on the inside of his cheek. _Please just pass by. Please. Just keep walk_ \--

A soft, but deliberate, series of knocks sounded on his door.

Gar let his arms drop, so the 3DS and stylus flopped out of his fingers as they hit the mattress. He stared at them, trying to guide her away from the door with the force of his will. But when she knocked again, he sighed, and he reached up to pull the sheets off his head.

He didn’t trust his voice enough to announce he was awake. Instead, he slipped silently off his bed and let himself stumble a few steps away from it, reaching up to scratch his fingers through his hair in a weak attempt to clean or straighten it somehow. Whatever sensible, aware, part of his consciousness hoped that he’d wiped all traces of tears off his face. Or that, maybe, his eyes weren’t bloodshot anymore. Maybe he could even pluck the 3DS off his bed and show it to her--since it was still on--make the claim that he'd been playing all night. The screen would explain away any circles under his eyes, possibly the redness. Yeah. That was a good plan. Stick to that. He took a deep breath as he reached the door, pausing a moment to collect himself, then pressed the button.

The door slid open. Rachel stood on the other side, her expression calm as always. She was already dressed, but… somehow he got the sense that she’d never changed out of her uniform to begin with. Not that he had, either.

They stood in mutual silence for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. Gar couldn’t tell if she was studying him or waiting for him to ask why she’d come up to his floor of the Tower to seek him out. Maybe it was later than he thought and they had started to get worried. Or curious. He began to open his mouth but, she chose that precise moment to speak.

“You like weird things.”

Gar felt himself stiffen. It was more a statement than a question. He blinked, one hand absently rubbing his arm.

“Uuuh… yeah?” His voice was so hoarse and scratchy, it almost made him wince. He thought fast enough to clear his throat and swallow, lifting his chin a bit. “--Yeah. Um. … Yeah, I guess so.”

Rachel nodded once, as though to signal her statement had obviously not needed his confirmation. He was almost surprised that she made no remark on the condition of his voice nor his bland response. She turned on her heel and started back down the corridor towards the elevator. And, for whatever reason, he fell into step behind her. She said nothing else as they walked. She didn’t shoo him away or elaborate why she’d come to his door. She just walked. And he followed.

They moved into the elevator. As the doors shut, Rachel pressed the button to lower a floor. To her floor. Gar’s brows wrinkled a little. He’d expected that Vic--or maybe Kori--had requested she retrieve him and bring him back to the OPs Room, showing that he was alright and not… missing or… something. Whatever conclusion they may have come to during his absence. But the elevator doors slid open a moment later, and Rachel stepped out. He drifted after her.

His confusion thickened as they headed down the corridor, nearing her room. She still hadn’t said anything or so much as looked at him. It was beginning to feel weird. Not _bad_ -weird but… _weird_. And as much as he did like 'weird things,' he wasn't so sure how he was feeling about... whatever _this_ was. Gar held his tongue, gnawing on it with his back teeth. As they got closer to her room door, he reflexively began to slow and fall behind. And as though she’d seen him, Rachel lifted a hand and gestured for him to keep walking. So he did.

She sighed as they stepped into the dimly lit space, visibly relaxing as the door slid shut behind them. Gar shrank internally, eyeing the grim decorations, the books that hadn't found a place on her many shelves neatly stacked in organized piles. He noticed a circle of thin candles to the right of her bed, all extinguished with strings of smoke ghosting the air above them. The room smelled faintly of vanilla and fire.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Rachel began, slowing and turning to face him as she reached the center of her room. Gar stopped a few feet from her, arms now crossed over his chest and shoulders caved in a little. Her room had always felt a little chilled, but… as the years had passed--as their abilities, senses, awareness, grew stronger--it felt like the temperature dropped several degrees. It was all in his head, he knew. But that didn’t stop the shiver. She continued. “So… I decided to meditate.”

Gar rolled his jaw, shrugging. He tried to ignore the flickering sense of invasion and paranoia. Did… she _know_? “Um… okay…?”

“I… wound up doing more than that. I opened an astral plane. Somewhere I could walk to ease my body and mind.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He wasn't certain but, in movies or comic books, it always seemed to be. They served as some kind of veil or door between the world of the living and something else. Every interpretation was different but, they all carried a similar, eerie feeling.

Rachel frowned, seeming to consider her next words. “It was fine. I wasn’t alone.”

His ears rose at this, his spine straightening just a hair. He waited for a name or description or… anything, really. Something to indicate that her company had been nothing but safe. Rachel stared back at him, her expression unwavering. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. And here, in her living space--in her 'threshold'--it was only more difficult for his sixth sense to filter through the auras, the sensations, and stimuli. She'd probably intended for exactly that. The environment was her shield, hiding away how she felt while he stood bare and exposed. He really hated that. If he wasn't exhausted, wasn't feeling woozy in the head, he may have been angry. Less at her. More at himself for willingly walking into her little 'trap.'

“We had been walking for a while,” she continued. “And we found something. But, right as we did, my concentration was interrupted, and…”

She trailed off, gesturing towards her bed. Gar blinked at her, turning to eye the undisturbed blankets. It took a moment to notice it. A tiny, black shape, huddled at the foot of her bed. It sat still, only turning its small head every couple of seconds. Its fragile little body pulsed as though it were breathing quickly. Nervously. Gar glanced at Rachel, and she nodded. Wordless permission to approach. So he wandered towards the bed. As he did, the creature flicked its wings and squeaked.

It was a raven. A baby raven. With feet and legs that looked much too big and gangly for its little body, and a ring of sky blue in its eyes, a sign that it was very young. The blue would fade with age, granting the bird its entirely shadow-like appearance. The raven looked up at him. Blinked once. And squeaked.

Gar withdrew, holding his hands up a little as he turned to face Rachel again.

“-- _Whoa,_ um,” he fumbled for words. “--Wait. The… the last time Vic and I wound up in your head--and, uh, sorry again for that by the way--these things weren’t exactly friendly.”

“--This **isn’t** from my head,” Rachel said, and by the way she clamped her jaw afterward, he got the vibe that she hadn’t meant to say it as quickly as she had. She took two seconds to steady herself. “It’s different. It… came from something else.”

He shifted on his feet, folding his arms again and looking down at the bird. It tilted its head. Its breath still came in nervous, quick little swells of its small body. Gar frowned, one ear raising and swiveling to face Rachel.

“So… uh.” He wasn’t sure how to ask the question he wanted to ask. “Did the person… or whatever… that you were ‘walking with’ on this space plane thingy, give it to you?”

“No,” Rachel said. Her tone clipped just enough to alert him the subject of her company was off limits. “It… it’s hard to explain.”

“Could you, uh… _try_ to?”

She stared at him. He looked up, popping one shoulder in a shrug.

“You said yourself that I like weird things,” he said. “If you’re worried it’s ‘too weird’... try me.”

“It’s not that,” she said. She paused. “It’s because while I was meditating last night, and projecting myself into this astral plane, there was… there was an overwhelming swell of emotion from somewhere in the Tower.”

… _oh_.

Gar raised his ears, trying to feign curiosity and confusion. He knew she wouldn’t buy it. But it was some form of his own shield against being asked about it. When he remained quiet, she continued.

“As you know, I can absorb emotions. I must have done that unconsciously, and they followed me to the plane.” Again, Rachel paused. Now she seemed to be the one searching for the right words to explain. “They must have blended with my magick, somehow, and manifested. And… it was just...  _there_. I picked it up. My meditation was interrupted. And, somehow, it came ‘back’ with me.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, he looked back to the baby bird.

So… if it had ‘manifested’ or whatever, then that meant it didn’t have any parents. If it did, they were back in that other place, anyway. Putting it outside in hopes they’d find it again would be a bad idea. The cold temperatures of fall and winter hadn’t reached them yet, but they were starting to creep in. With no way to get food or water, the bird wouldn’t last.

...could it even die? ...He wasn’t willing to test that.

Whatever it was, it was alive now. It was small, weak and fragile, as baby birds were. And as far as it knew, it was alone. No parents. No siblings. No grasp on the world it'd been pulled into. No _nothing_. If that wasn't familiar, he didn't know what was.

Gar sighed to himself. Only he would immediately sympathize with a weird not-bird that Rachel’s magick had somehow breathed freaking life into. If he were smart, he would have started walking away by now. But 'smart' had never been a word he used to describe himself. “And, uh. You… you got me because I’m the resident animal dude who would love a crocodile even if it clamped down on my arm and did a death roll.”

“That’s... one way of phrasing it,” she muttered, a brow raising. Gar nodded.

He stepped closer to the bed, bending to slowly extend one hand towards the bird. It locked onto his approaching fingers immediately, attempting to wobble on its long feet and legs, beak half-open. He let it nibble on his fingers for a moment, tapping the top of its head with his pointer finger.

“I can try to find a way to put it back,” Rachel offered. He could feel her watching him. “It wouldn’t return with me earlier. But I’m sure there’s a way.”

Gar shrugged. “It’s cool.”

He lowered his other hand, slowly gliding it towards the baby bird until it rested palm-up against the mattress beside it. When the raven didn’t shy away, he delicately scooped the tiny mess of feathers and legs into his hands, lifting it to cradle against his chest. The raven let out a small squawk but didn’t try to escape. It adjusted its legs, flicked its wings, so they beat against Gar’s thumbs, and settled into the shape of his fingers. Gar turned to face Rachel.

“Uh. Is… there anything else I need to know?”

A small part of him hoped she’d elaborate about this company she’d traveled with. He knew Rachel would tell them if she--or by extension, all of them--were in some kind of danger because of this… ‘person.’ But he also knew that, as much as he worked to respect her privacy, that curious voice in his mind wouldn’t shut up until it was sated.

Of course, Rachel shook her head and shrugged. The conversation was over.

Gar exited her room in silence, half relieved, half rattled. His mind spun as he wandered the length of the hall to the elevator, trying to piece together and make some kind of sense of what Rachel had told him. No matter how he folded it, though, it didn’t form a satisfactory shape. He still felt confused. Still felt… somehow exposed and invaded. Some kind of weird karma for literally hopping into _her_ mind all those years ago? Guess that made sense. They were even, now.

He slid into the elevator and used his elbow to hit the button for his floor. As the doors slid shut, he looked down at the bird in his hands. It was looking back up at him, blinking as it continued to breathe.

“So,” he said, brows raising. “What’s up, tiny dude?”

The raven twitched its wings, shifting. He could feel its tiny talons scratch his skin as it did.

“Guess you’re stuck with me for a while, huh?”

The raven blinked again. It--no… _she_ … turned her head just enough to squawk, closing her beak around the tip of one of his fingers. He wiggled it, and she released him, attempting to shift around in his hand again. He chuckled despite himself, stepping out of the elevator as the doors slid open.

Once in his room, he moved quickly. Gar balanced on one foot and hooked his toes under the strap of his backpack, flipping it into the air. He caught it with one hand, able to hold the raven in the other, and slung it over his shoulder. He located his phone and tossed it into the pack. And, just as he was leaving, he spotted the camera sitting on a shelf. Gar paused at the door, staring at the device. He crossed the room, gently placed it inside the pack, and left. His walk to the bathroom was also fast-paced. He didn’t go into the room, itself, but the closet directly across from it. From that, he retrieved a couple soft hand towels, stuffing them into the backpack and closing the door. Then he returned to the elevator.

When the doors to the OPs Room slid open, and he stepped inside, he surveyed the space. Vic sat at the computer console, typing away and pausing every couple seconds to glance over what he’d just entered and steal a gulp of orange juice from his glass. Kori was in the kitchen area, moving about gracefully and humming. Gar took a slow breath, painfully aware that he might still have visible traces of the previous night etched into his eyes and face. Rachel may not have drawn attention to them if they were there, but these two might. He ventured into the large room, moving towards the kitchen with fingers curled around the raven and backpack secure on his shoulder. Kori spotted him almost instantly, and she smiled. As he rounded into the kitchen, he noticed she was clad in a pair of old overalls that cut off half-way down her thighs and a brightly colored top. A large sunhat slumped against the corner cabinets. Her gardening ‘uniform’.

“Garfield!! Good morning!”

He managed a grin, raising his free hand and touching two fingers to his temple in a salute. “Mornin’, Kori!" His voice had cleared and sharpened, the scratchiness near faded. Good. "You’re not making Chrome-Dome breakfast, are you?”

“She better not be!” Vic called from the monitors. Kori smiled, a sly expression with her eyes half-lidded, and clasped her hands in front of her.

“I believe Victor already has plans for the meal between breakfast and lunch.”

Gar’s ears lifted. “What?”

Kori opened her mouth but paused. Her eyes had dropped to his hand, locking onto the raven. She gasped, hands lifting to hover in front of her lips as a full, shining grin spread across her features. “Oh!! _Garfield!_ What is that?!”

The suddenness of her reaction had startled him, and he looked down at the raven. “--uh! It’s…” He somehow had failed to consider that this would need some kind of explanation to everyone else. And the last thing he wanted was for all of them to know about the previous night’s… everything. “It’s… --Rachel found her.”

Wasn't a lie. Wasn't all the information, either.

Gar shifted his fingers just enough for Kori to get a better look, and she leaned to smile at the baby bird. “She’s _wonderful!_ May I?” She raised a hand, pausing to glance at him. He shrugged, nodding.

“Just reach slowly. --And, uh. Gentle.”

“Of course.”

Kori tenderly brushed her fingertips against the raven’s head. The baby bird shifted in his fingers, turning her neck enough to bump her beak against the new hand. Kori giggled, withdrawing her hand back to her person. She returned to the kitchen, continuing to fill two large watering cans. Gar watched her for a moment before moving past the kitchen counter, lightly slumping his backpack across it as he passed. He continued to the computer console, twisting on his heel, so he leaned back against the edge, half-sitting on it. A few seconds of silence passed--interrupted only by Vic’s typing fingers--before Gar looked up, ears and brows raised.

“ _So_. Brunch?”

“Eyup,” Vic hummed, fingers not missing a key.

“... _Plans_ for brunch?”

“Yeah.”

“Sooo… you’re _meeting_ someone for--”

“Ajaya’s landlord is givin’ her hell,” Vic interrupted, side-glancing him, “and I’m droppin’ into town to see how I can help.”

Gar’s ears twitched to their highest point. Vic’s human eye narrowed, flicking back to look at the screen.

“It ain’t like that.”

“Uh _huh_.”

“Garfield.”

“Whoa, the whole name.”

“ _Yeah_. The **whole** name.”

Gar sighed, letting his head hang back for a moment before bringing it up again to frown at Vic. He lowered his voice. “I’m still getting, uh… tense vibes from you guys, dude. Is everything--”

“It’s fine,” Vic muttered. Gar’s expression dulled, letting his ears droop to ‘airplane mode.’ He was getting a taste of his own medicine, wasn't he? His friend might be more than half machine, but the guy had his human mind, human heart, human soul. Gar could still feel that, still feel the smothering thickness in the air and the tightness of Vic’s jaw. Before he had the chance to press, Vic changed the subject. “Didn’t know birds had babies this time’a year.”

They didn’t.

“Yeah, it’s, uh… weird,” Gar said, shrugging one shoulder. The raven had sunk into his fingers, bundled against his shirt. Vic stole a brief glance, his lips curving into a small, but curious, frown.

“Thought you were supposed t’leave ‘em alone, too,” Vic continued. “That one time we found a cardinal or somethin’ in the garden, you told Kori to put it back.”

Yeah. But that was for, like… _actual_ birds. **Real** birds. This one didn’t have parents to watch over it. Rachel had pulled this one out of her head somehow--or, no, not _her_ head. But, still. Even standing here, holding the raven in his palms, he could feel that there was something just… slightly off about it. He didn’t know how to begin explaining that to Vic. Didn't really want to, either. He’d probably mess it up, anyway.

“Uh,” Gar said. “... I’ll, uh. I’ll tell you later.”

“How’d y’know it was a girl?”

“Huh?”

“When you were talkin’ to Kori, y’said ‘her.’ Didn’t know there was a way to tell male and female… --that a crow or a raven?”

Gar glanced down at his hand. “Raven. ...and, uh. I dunno.” He shrugged again. “I just kinda knew.”

Vic sent him another glance, brow raised this time. Gar rolled his eyes and huffed, lifting his free hand in a ‘don’t ask me’ sort of gesture. “Sixth sense?”

“Huh.” Vic turned back to the computer screen. Gar tilted his head to look up at it, unable to catch any of the words as Vic began to close files and browsers. “Well, I gotta head out. Wally should be here soon--think Kori asked him to help out in the garden today.”

“Oh,” Gar said, blinking. He pushed off the console and stepped aside so Vic would have room to stand.

“--if you are free, perhaps you could join us!” Kori chirped, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “We would love your company!”

“We sure would.”

The three of them jumped, turning their heads. Wally was leaning against the kitchen counter, reaching for the fruit basket and selecting an apple as vibrant red as his hoodie. He gave it a light toss, flashing Gar and Vic a grin as he caught it. “Mind if I steal a snack?”

Kori let out a squeal, leaping into the air, so she glided across the counter and threw her arms around Wally’s shoulders. Wally stumbled fluidly to the side, laughing along with her as he tried to hug her back. Vic and Gar both let out a slow breath, allowing themselves to come down from the jolt of surprise. Speedsters were almost as notorious as Batman when it came to just suddenly _being there_. Almost.

“Just don’t clear out our pantry, West,” Vic said, pointing at Wally as he started towards the OPs room doors. “And stay away from my chip stash!”

Wally’s laugh brightened, and he shot a finger-gun in Vic’s direction with one arm still slung over Kori’s back. “I’ll replace any I eat!”

Vic snorted loudly, shaking his head. Once the doors slid shut behind him, Kori pulled away and floated to the ground once more. She still bounced a bit on her toes, her excitement buzzing through the air with an energy Gar couldn’t quite place. Just that it was warm, electric and comforting. Genuine happiness. He wished he could pour it into a glass and get drunk on it.

“I am so happy to see you, Wally!” Kori said, clapping her hands. “Thank you for agreeing to help. I would like to have these flowers planted so they may root and adjust before the climate becomes too cold.”

“Yeah!” Wally said, giving her a thumbs up and a smile. “‘Course! You know I’m always happy to lend a hand. Besides, who doesn’t love a good afternoon outdoors? --Hey, Gar! Good-mornin'!”

Gar felt his spine stiffen. He still grinned, starting across the room to the kitchen counter. “Mornin’, dude.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Hungry, probably,” Gar said as he rounded to the cabinets. He was pretty sure they still had a bag of puppy chow around here somewhere from April. He’d brought it home from the animal shelter while fostering a puppy and forgotten to return it.

Wally leaned on the counter, folding his arms over it. “Sounds like my kind of friend.” And he took a large bite of the apple. Gar flashed him a half-smile. He snatched one of the towels out of his backpack and bundled it on the counter into a makeshift nest. Then, he gently settled the raven into it. She became alert immediately, her little head raising and blue-ringed eyes blinking as his hands pulled away.

“But--uh--yeah!! I’d like to help out in the garden. I just gotta whip up something for Tweety, here.”

“Is that its name?”

“Oh, god, no.”

Wally let out a laugh. He noticed Kori was glancing between them, a confused smile on her face. “--it’s an old cartoon character, Kori.”

“Oh! I see,” she replied. Although it was pretty clear she didn’t. Gar made a mental note to show her some of the classics soon.

“You guys go ahead,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he bent to open a cabinet. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

“You sure?” Wally asked. Gar nodded, raising his fist in a thumbs-up.

He listened as Wally and Kori moved towards the OPs Room doors--each carrying one of the large watering cans--and gathered the near-empty bag of puppy chow from the cabinets. He was going to need stuff high in protein and, lucky for this little bird, Vic had some protein powder around here somewhere. The puppy chow could be supplemented with that--so could egg yolk and shell. He’d have to make a couple trips around town to see if he could find other things like mealworms, crickets, or raw beef kidney _(ugh)_.

Gar pulled a couple eggs out of the fridge and moved them to the stove. He tried to keep himself busy and moving, focused on ingredients, measurements and tools he’d need. He knew they had a turkey baster or something like that lying around in a drawer somewhere, it was just a matter of finding the darn thing. He'd have to water down the mixture, so it'd be easier to get into the baster and down her throat.

He stole a few glances at the raven as he moved. She was observing him, her small form expanding and shrinking with every couple breaths as her body remained otherwise still. That was another ‘off’ thing about her. Most baby birds would do one of two things when greeted with movement: beg for food or act defensive and scared. She… wasn’t doing either.

 _There was an overwhelming swell of emotion from somewhere in the Tower.  
_ _They must have blended with my magick and manifested._

Gar rolled his lips together, nursing one and letting his fang pinch it as he started water to boil on the stove. There was absolutely no doubt that ‘swell’ had come from him. Not only had the nightmare happened last night, but he and Rachel shared the same side of the Tower; he was only one floor above her. She would have easily been able to feel what he’d felt. That thought, alone, twisted his stomach. His hands shook a little as he dumped some of the puppy chow into a bowl, using a meat tenderizer to carefully crush it.

So. If that was all true. Then… that would mean the raven came from _him_ , somehow, wouldn't it? Maybe that was why it wasn’t behaving like a ‘normal’ bird would. Ugh, this was weird. And confusing. His head was starting to hurt, and he didn’t know if it was because of the lack of sleep, the emotional hangover or the sheer ‘what-the-absolute-heck’ of this whole new situation. Either way, he scrubbed the heel of his palm against his temple, sighing to himself.

He had located the turkey baster by the time the eggs had finished boiling, and the puppy chow was ground to an easy-to-swallow size. Egg yolks chopped, mixed with a bit of protein powder, their own shells and the puppy chow, and he gently gathered both raven and towel into his hand. His backpack was still on the counter and he wedged his arm through one of the straps, shrugging it onto one shoulder as he headed to the OPs Room doors.

By the time he got outside, rounded the Tower path and found his way to the garden, Wally and Kori had retrieved the crates of flowers from the garage. Gar knew she’d spent a good half of the previous day in the city shopping around for bulbs that would be able to withstand colder temperatures of the year. Just entering this area of the island was enough to give him a subtle, soothing feeling. The ocean breeze was a mix of salt, sand and laced with warm aromas from the flowers. It was a little dizzying--for him, anyway. Combined with the soft rumble of the nearby waves, he could undoubtedly take a nap out here among the plants. And he had many times in the past, wrapped in the safe cocoon of his hammock and the gentle sounds around him.

But today… today, the waves felt… sinister. Like they knew what they’d done or could do. It was stupid and childish, Gar knew, but he kept his eyes locked on the garden and friends ahead. Anything to keep from looking out to the water.

Wally was setting the last of the crates on top of a rock as Gar approached, and the redhead flashed him a soft grin. “Kori tells me you guys are getting a tattoo tomorrow.”

“Yeah!” Gar said, smiling as he side-stepped to sit on a lower rock. He tucked one ankle on the other knee, letting his backpack slide off his arm and onto the ground. “We decided to get matching lotus tattoos. Rachel said they’ve got a lot of good meaning behind them. They also look pretty awesome.”

Wally nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Any idea where you’re getting it?”

“My arm, I guess? Or--oh! The back of my hand might be cool, too.”

“Sounds handy to me.”

Gar’s smile widened into a grin, and he raised his brows. “ _Really_?”

“Really.”

Gar snorted. "And they say my jokes are bad."

Kori joined them, one crate under each arm and supported by her hips. She quickly shifted them around to place them on the ground, smiling as she straightened again and reached back to tie her hair in a ponytail. Her sunhat rested on top of one of the watering cans a few feet away.

Wally turned to look at her. “So, Kori! What kinds of flowers are we planting today? They all look great.”

“Oh!” She looked up, dropping her hands with a bright smile and quickly turning in a small circle to look at each of the crates. With a tiny hop in her step, she moved to point at each as she named them off. “Sweet alyssum, honeywort, calendula and winter jasmine!”

“Nice!” Wally said, giving her a double thumbs-up. He quickly pointed to the bright orange calendulas. “Those are definitely my favorite.”

“Honeywort all the way, dude,” Gar said, shifting his hands, so one cradled the raven while the other raised the turkey baster above her head. She eyed it warily, head tilted back and wings lifting off her sides. Wally smirked at him.

“Purple, huh? You’re biased.”

“YOU’RE biased.”

“They are all magnificent,” Kori said. She had pulled her phone from her back pocket and seemed to be distracted as she scrolled through an app. A moment later, light-hearted, upbeat music began to play from the phone, and she grinned as she swayed along with the pulse. Wally began to sway and bounce a bit, too, swinging his arms as he stepped to the crate of winter jasmine.

“Alright, boss. Tell me where to start!”

Kori placed her phone beside Gar’s backpack, turning to begin plucking the little ‘pots’ of sweet alyssum from their crate. “We will plant these by the slope. The soil is looser, there, and I would like to frame the garden with these colors.”

“Sounds perfect!”

“I’ll be right with you guys,” Gar said, glancing up. “I gotta make sure the lil dude eats.”

Kori nodded and lead Wally to the slope she’d referred to. Gar looked back to the raven palmed in his lap. She had positioned herself to lean away from the turkey baster, head turned so one wide eye stared the thing down. He smirked weakly, pulling it away for a moment. “I know, I’d be freaked out, too. The first time I saw one of these, I thought it was, like… an eye dropper for giants. I think.” He squinted at himself, blinking once. “Cliff gave me crap about it for a week but Rita rolled with it. I think she even worked it into one of my bedtime stories, but maybe don’t tell Vic that.”

Gar looked back down. The raven had turned her head to look at him, now. She blinked once, wings a bit looser against her sides. He smiled at her, offering the baster again. She shuffled away from it, feathers poofing up as her wings once again raised. He frowned. “Hey. It’s okay! It’s not gonna hurt you, and you gotta eat. …--and if you think for even a _second_ that I’m gonna do this the ‘real’ way, you got another thing comin’, lil dude.”

The raven blinked.

“Garfield?” Kori was approaching him again, her brows knitted at the top of her nose. She must have returned to grab some of the garden tools. “Is everything alright?”

He looked up at her and nodded, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s fine, I guess. I think she’s just scared of the baster-thing. I don’t blame her but, uh. She’s gotta eat.”

_I think. If she’s not a ‘real’ raven, does she need to eat?_

Kori frowned, her gaze dipping to the raven in his hand. He tried again to lower the baster towards the raven, but she pressed herself against the heel of his palm. Gar sighed, drawing the baster away. “I just don’t wanna stress her out, y’know?”

“Hmm,” Kori hummed. Then, she smiled, taking a step closer and crouching in front of him. “Perhaps she needs a demonstration!”

Gar stared at her as she stooped forward. “What?”

She plucked the baster from his hand, squeezing some of the formula onto her fingers. When he realized what she was about to do, Gar stiffened, his throat reflexively going sour and tight as he imagined what the mixture would taste like. “--Kori, wait, there's--”

But she had already popped her fingers into her mouth, pulling them away and giving the raven a pleasant, satisfied expression. The raven blinked at her. Gar stared at her, mouth agape. His eyes somehow rolled to look over her shoulder, where Wally was standing and holding three pots of alyssum in his hands. His expression was wide, the smile on his face mirroring the hints of confusion and mild fear in his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Gar’s eyes snapped back to Kori. Her expression hadn’t changed much. If anything, she looked thoughtful.

“It is… _not_ bad,” she said slowly, as though trying to find the most appropriate words. “A bit ...grainy, perhaps? Scratchy?”

“Eggshells will do that,” Gar said without realizing he was speaking. Kori nodded as though this wasn’t an uncommon ingredient. She squeezed a bit more of the formula onto her fingers, this time offering them to the raven.

“Try,” she said, gingerly nudging her fingers against the raven’s beak. The bird turned away at first, seeming confused and even a little annoyed with the prodding. Then she opened her beak and gave Kori’s fingertips a nibble, tasting the formula in the process. A moment passed before she nibbled again. Then again, a bit greedily. When there was none left, the raven let out a shrill squawk, leaning forward with her beak wide and begging. Kori spread more formula onto her fingers--this time making a bit of a show that the source of the food was the baster--and let the raven gobble it down again. When it was mostly gone, she pulled her hand away and offered Gar the baster. He took it, eyes a bit wide with surprise and gratitude, and presented it to the raven. She all but sprang at it, warbling loudly. Gar laughed, delighted and relieved.

“Dude! That… _worked_!” He grinned up at Kori. “Thanks!!”

Kori smiled, shoulders lifting in a bashful little shrug. She rose to stand and stepped away, selecting a couple alyssum pots from Wally’s arms before moving to the slope. Wally glanced at Gar, brows raised, and followed behind Kori.

Once the raven had her fill (coming nowhere close to emptying the baster, thankfully), Gar slid off the rock. He spun the towel into a nest-like shape and once again nuzzled the raven into it. She let herself be tucked into place, eyes half-lidded in an almost contented expression. He set the baster by his backpack and Kori’s phone before setting a timer on his own device. Twenty minutes and the raven would probably need to be fed again. This was going to be a long, tricky process of figuring out how to plan her meals.

Gar jogged to the slope, casting only a brief glance to the ocean as he reached Wally and Kori. Unlike the previous night, its surface shifted, churned and crashed against the rocks, leaving sheets of foam to sizzle and dissolve. It was normal. And, of course it was. He was awake this time around.

He rubbed his arm absently and looked at Kori, forcing a broad smile. “Sooo, where do you need some holes?” Gar raised his hands, flicking them so his fingers narrowed and lengthened, his nails extending to claws. “I’m good for diggin’.”

“Right over here!”

Kori guided him to a small, bare spot not too far from the island’s slope. She ducked to pat the soil with one hand, glancing at him over her shoulder and nodding. He returned it, lacing his fingers together and giving them an exaggerated stretch. He got to work, grateful to have something to keep his mind and hands busy and distracted. And just as he thought it wasn’t going to be enough, Wally knelt down beside him with a couple of the plastic pots, organizing them around the borders of the holes.

“Find a new adventure game?” Wally asked. "Or did Imogene rope you into Prop Hunt at 1am?"

Gar blinked, pausing long enough to glance at him.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes.” Wally looked up, pointing at his own face and gesturing at the curves beneath his eyes. “They're kinda red. Circles are kind of evident, too. --No offense. I just figured you'd been up gaming in the dark.”

Gar shrugged, nodding with a tiny grunt. “Oh! Yeah--uh, not Prop Hunt, though. Animal Crossing. I told myself I'd go to bed as soon as I found Wisp--this ghost dude who will pick all your weeds if you find his lamp?--but, Uh. You know. It's Animal Crossing. I get distracted.”

“Oh!” Wally chuckled. "I think I remember that guy. The ghost-genie?"

“Yep. ...What, uh, have you been up to? Aside from classes?”

“Eh, just settling into the apartment.”

“That would take you, like, five minutes.”

“No!” A pause. “I dragged it out to ten minutes.”

Gar snorted, raising his hands in front of him. “Whoa. Everyone _stand back_.”

“Be quiet!” Wally elbowed him gently in the arm and Gar chuckled, rolling his shoulder. He sat back on his haunches and watched Wally begin to nestle the plants into the holes, scooping the piles of dirt into the empty spaces. His hoodie sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, leaving his forearms exposed. Gar blinked at them, something in his chest growing light. Warm. ...fluttery.

“AH!!!”

Kori’s sudden gasp of sound made both of them jump, and they twisted to glance back towards where they’d piled the flower crates. She was bouncing on her toes, even squealing softly in excitement. “I LOVE this song!!!”

Gar raised his ears a little higher. Sure enough, he recognized the tune. It’d been one of her favorites for over a year now, and her habit of playing it repeatedly would sometimes drive Vic bonkers.

“Hey! This is a good one!!” Wally grinned, on his feet and jogging towards her in an instant. Gar watched him go, vaguely aware of the heat on his cheeks and how quickly his heart was suddenly beating. It was the sun, probably. The remnants of surprise from Kori's outburst.

Wally slid to a stop at her side, hand extended and head tilted with a smile that was endearing in every way a smile could be. “May I have the honors, m’lady?”

Kori laughed, bright and bubbling. She grasped his hand, taking a step back into a slow bow. “Oh, it would be my pleasure.”

Gar blinked as Wally took a swift step backward, guiding Kori into a spinning sort of dance. He doubted they had the thing choreographed, but their natural enthusiasm and kindred spirits guarded their toes against getting stomped or ankles against getting tangled. Wally was singing along, his voice exaggerated during higher notes, and Kori’s laugh was something ethereal. Genuine as birdsong and just as soothing.

He almost wasn’t thinking as he pushed to his feet, jogging to his backpack. The raven watched as he dug into it, retrieving the camera and turning it carefully in his hands. Gar inhaled a little, facing the dancers as they twirled yet again. He felt awkward and kind of dumb but Wally had said it would feel something like that. He waved the camera. “—hey! Can… can I…?” 

Wally grinned widely, and Kori gasped as she whirled out of a spin. “Oh!! Yes! Please!”

“Um—yeah, okay!” Gar said, lifting the camera.

He waited, watching until Wally threw an arm out dramatically and Kori twirled so her hair seemed to glow in the sunlight and the ends flickered, licking the air as though aflame. The camera clicked.

“Do you like having your picture taken, my fair maiden?” Wally asked, waggling his brows as he spun Kori back to him. She smirked, swooping to wrap an arm around his waist and hoist him into the air as though he weighed nothing. Wally grunted, laughing as he gripped one of her shoulders. “—Hey!!”

“I do,” Kori answered, spinning so her feet left the ground and she floated an inch or two gracefully off the dirt. Wally was still laughing, and now Gar was, too. The camera clicked.

She twisted so Wally slid off her shoulder and down her arm, letting him go as she, too, returned to the earth. Wally caught himself, taking up her wrist again and, this time, guiding her into a dip. She curved and threw her head back, laughing and extending an arm with finesse. “Wonderful!!”

The camera clicked, capturing their beaming expressions, their unbridled happiness. Gar smiled. He’d started to speak when Kori came out of the dip, but Wally suddenly strode forward, waving his arm at him. “Dude, come on! You should be in some, too!”

Gar’s ears twitched upward and he blinked, lowering the camera. Then, he grinned. “Yeah!” He jogged forward, pausing long enough to ensure the camera was successfully passed to Wally, then moved to Kori’s side. She leaned down a little to offer her hand, and he snorted, his grin slanting into a smirk. “You tall people are jerks.”

“Oh?” She said, one of her small brows lifting. She took his hand, and he yelped as he was spun from the ground. Gar threw his other hand up, gripping for her arm or shoulder—something more to support himself with so he wouldn’t be flung across the island. He managed to catch the curve of her shoulder, curling his legs up as she spun to and fro. It was dizzying—blurs of blues and greens and grays and golds whirling by—but Kori’s smile remained constant. She kept him snug against her, half-stepping and half-floating through the air as the music carried them. Some of the initial fear and worry trickled away, and Gar found himself laughing as she dipped him low, tipping his head back until it tapped against the dirt. He could hear the camera click over the music and the blood rushing to his head. He popped one leg up for flair, and Wally laughed.

“This is almost as much fun as those swing-dance classes we took last year!” He said, letting her lift and twirl him again.

“We must do that again!!” Kori exclaimed, delighted. “Please!! I LOVED the swinging dances!”

She spun low, letting him twirl out of her arms like a top. He stumbled, arms windmilling for some form of purchase, and Wally caught his right elbow. Gar grunted, straightening as his head bobbed a bit. “You guys need to stop spinning.”

“Uh huh,” Wally said, chuckling. He raised his brows, leaning a bit to meet Gar’s eyes. “Wait, did you guys seriously take swing-dance? How is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

Gar smiled, shrugging one shoulder and rubbing the side of his head. “Uh, I dunno? But yeah! Twice a week for most of last year.”

“Yes!” Kori said, clapping her hands twice. “It was most enjoyable! We had difficulty at first since I am so much taller, but we were quick and adaptable.”

Gar held up his hand, giving her a wide grin. “Up top, queen of swing.” Kori clapped her palm against his with a laugh.

“You’ll have to show me the ropes sometime,” Wally said, letting go of Gar’s arm. “It sounds like a lot of fun—real quick and energetic. Right up my alley.”

“Dude! I can show you now!”

Gar reached out and gently took the camera from Wally’s hand, passing it to Kori. He then lightly gripped Wally’s wrist and pulled him to where they’d been dancing before, leaning around him to point at Kori’s phone. “Change the song?”

Kori grinned, nodding and kneeling to scoop her phone off the ground. Gar turned forward again, ears lifting along with his grin as he let go of Wally’s wrist and raised his hands. “Okay! —So, like, uh. … I’m not good at explaining this stuff.”

Wally laughed softly, lifting and dropping his arms. “Hit me with your best shot. I’ll figure it out.”

“You have too much faith in my ability to word.” Gar shifted his feet, digging for a memory of those first couple classes he’d taken with Kori. “Okay, so… —swing-dance has, like. Steps? That you gotta learn and then you can throw’em in wherever you like.”

“Like music!” Kori chimed in, lowering her phone as a high-tempo, jazzy sort of song began to play. “Ah, ‘scales’ is what they are called on your planet, I believe? You learn them and they allow you to play whatever music you receive.”

Wally snapped a finger and pointed. “That's a good way of describing it!”

“Why are they called ‘ _scales_ ’?” Gar asked. “Nothing in music looks like a dragon or a dinosaur or even—”

“Dude, we’re dancing.”

“—Oh yeah!! Okay, uh! So the first step—or whatever—is just this walk-thing.” Gar started ‘walking’ in place, letting his upper body sort of sway along with his feet and the rhythm of the music. “Easy, yeah? —just make sure you’re leaning a bit forward, not back.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah!! Then there’s…—Kori, what was it called?”

She hummed, brows knitting together. “Touch-stepping.”

“Right. It’s like this, kinda? You just tap your toe before you take a step in the walk.” He added the movement, careful not to fall into muscle memory and get ahead of himself. “And you can do it all over! Like—touch to the side—“ he tapped his right foot out to the right “—touch forward” he tapped his left foot in front of him “—and touch back.”

“Okay, okay,” Wally said, nodding as he began to mimic the movements. His own motions were precise and controlled, strangely confident. “I like it, I like it.”

Gar grinned, chuckling. “Jeez, is there anything you speedy dudes don’t learn quickly?”

“Ice skating.”

“Heh!”

“Oh, you laugh now. But one day your skates will break, and I'll bravely abandon you to find someone more competent.”

“Okay, SO, now is triple-step! Which, like, you kinda shuffle into a swing?” He shuffled a little to the side, the movement taking three steps to complete, before shuffle-swaying forward. This one hadn't been too hard for him to initially get the grasp of, but he had found that he'd get a little too excited and shuffle too many times. Dancing frequently meant counting; that was where he usually tripped up. “Try that one, twinkle-toes.”

Wally snorted, flashing him a grin as he almost immediately took up the movement. Kori cheered, clapping her hands as Gar narrowed his eyes and raised a brow. Wally waggles his own eyebrows, mischief leaking into his grin. “How’s this?”

“ _Horrible_. Worst dance. Minus two stars.”

“That’s just rude. I can feel my hopes and dreams shatter. Now I’ll never dance with a beautiful celebrity while wearing a sequined suit.”

“Cry me a river, dude, and while you’re at it: kick-ball-change.” Gar kicked his foot out, tapped the ball of it on the ground and switched feet. He did it again as he turned sideways, throwing a glance Wally's way in a silent challenge. Wally smirked, mirroring the motion. Perfectly.

“Yeah?” He asked.

Gar squinted. “ _Are you messin’ with me_?”

“How would I—“

Gar swung forward, snatching Wally’s wrist. He spun, feather-light on the balls of his feet, as he twirled Wally around to his other side. He let his legs fall into the rhythm—a bit unpracticed from summer—one kicking out, swapping to the other, toes popped as his weight rocked back. And, just as he’d suspected, Wally fell into the movements as naturally as a fish to water.

“You LIAR!!” Gar shouted, laughing despite himself as Wally now spun them, ducking his head as their arms twisted above. “You KNEW--when did YOU learn?!”

Wally was laughing now, too, and he let his arm swing behind him. “Years ago!! I guess I was starting to drive Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris a bit crazy with my fits of energy and I wasn’t interested in sports. She signed us up at a studio and, wha-la!”

“You’re a _jerk_!”

“And you’re a good teacher! Look at how far I’ve come already!”

“ _Pffffhahaha_!—SHUT UP!!”

They all laughed, Kori clapping again as Gar and Wally swapped hands, pulling each other forward to bump hips. They twirled, gripping hands. Gar kicked out a foot, laughing anew as Wally spun them again. He almost didn’t hear the soft chime of his phone as they both dropped back, held up only by each other’s arms. His ear twitched, catching the alarm.

“—Oh!!” He froze up, grunting when Wally’s movements tugged on his arm and pulled him a bit to the side. Wally quickly stopped, straightening.

“What?”

“I gotta feed the raven again,” Gar said, glancing at him. “It’s once every twenty minutes or so.”

“Gotcha.” Wally let go of his hand, giving him a thumbs up and a wink. “Kori and I should probably get back to gardening, anyway. These plants gotta root. Good dancing, though. We should do it for real, sometime. --maybe I can even tag along to a class or two.”

Gar smiled, feeling his face warm. He was flushed from the dancing, probably; all the spinning and stuff had his blood confused. Kori nodded, changing the phone back to its previous radio station. She returned it to the ground, pushing into the air to retrieve some more pots from one of the further rocks.

With a roll of his shoulders, Gar walked to the rock he’d left the raven on. She was awake and alert, locking onto him as he approached and even squawking at him. He smiled at her, turning to sit beside the coiled towel and lift it into his lap. He’d just dug the turkey baster out of his pack when he realized Wally had followed him over. The redhead placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head as he looked down at the raven. “So, we've ruled out 'Tweety'... What are you gonna name her?”

Gar looked up at him and blinked. “You… think I should?”

“Well, it seems kind of, I dunno, uh… —a mouthful? To keep referring to her as ‘the raven,’ y’know?” Wally shrugged, smiling. “Not to mention we already got Raven the empath extraordinaire and Raven the Wayne.”

“Heh,” Gar chuckled, glancing down when the baby bird latched onto the end of the baster. She gurgled the formula down greedily, and he looked up again. “Yeah, I guess. I just… I guess I just know that once I name her, I’ll be wrapped around her finger. Happens all the time. ‘Specially when you’re a sucker for animals.”

“True. But that would imply you're not _already_ wrapped around her finger. ...uh, toe. Wing?”

They laughed lightly.

Gar looked down again. Did it really matter if he named her? She wasn’t a ‘real’ raven—or, at least, not a ‘normal’ one. She hadn’t come from this place. Hadn’t come from an egg. So would she ever be able to be released? Rachel had mentioned something about putting her back, but… what did THAT mean? It wouldn’t… it wouldn’t kill her, would it? Did she even belong in the astral plane?

He chewed the inside of his cheek. Just beyond the slope, he could hear the gentle rumble of the waves. The fizz as foam bubbled on the rocks. Some of the lightness in his chest wilted, grew heavy against his ribs.

_I hate being alone._

_Yeah. Me, too._

Gar sighed, his gaze drifting away from the raven and trailing along the dirt, stone, and bits of branch from the couple surrounding trees. After a moment, his attention fell on a patch of moss creeping up the side of a large rock at the end of the garden. From its fuzzy green blanket, little bits of white fungi sprouted. He stared at it, pulling the baster away from the raven’s eager beak.

“... Gar?”

He eyed the moss a moment longer, deaf to Wally’s voice as his gaze fell back on the raven in his lap. The raven who wasn’t normal; who wasn’t like any other bird before her. She clicked her beak, tiny head tilting to gaze up at him. A voice entered his head. One he'd heard a few years ago, who'd spoken the very words he'd felt throughout much of his life.

**[ _What're you scared of_? ]**

_Being by myself. ...I'm scared of ending up alone._

“Gar.”

He looked up, ears raising. Wally had leaned a bit to the side in an attempt to catch his gaze, concern etched into his features. He studied Gar’s face. “Hey. You okay? …you kinda spaced, there.”

“Yeah,” Gar said. He smiled weakly, shrugging. “I guess… I just decided on a name for her.”

Wally’s brows raised as he straightened, smiling back. “Oh yeah? That was fast. What’re we calling her, now?”

“Ellie.” He nodded to himself, glancing down at the raven again. She was still staring up at him, the eye on that side of her head wide, brimming with energy and life. “I’m gonna call her Ellie.”


	9. Wicked Ink

_It’s not a big deal. It’s different. It’s just ink. It won’t even get in your bloodstream. Your pain tolerance is expert level, you can deal with it._

Gar all but glared at his own hands, trying everything he could to keep them from twitching and shaking as he scampered around his room. He gathered fresh towels from a stack he’d started in the corner, coiling them into a makeshift nest at the bottom of his now emptied backpack. The turkey baster, filled to the top with food for Ellie, was sealed away in two sandwich bags and tucked in the front pocket. There was a second sandwich bag of extra food in case the baster ran dry. He stood for a moment, eyeing the pack and trying to decide where the best place to put the camera would be. It was down to its last couple of pictures. He might even be able to drop it off for development after their appointment.

Ellie sat on the lower bunk, peeking out of her current towel-nest. She was much calmer, now. Her blue-ringed eyes held ever-present curiosity and intrigue as she watched him move around. He kept one ear swiveled to face her, alert for any indication she was uncomfortable or hungry before his timer alerted him. But aside from the occasional squawk or squeak of acknowledgment, she was quiet. Exhausting as her feeding schedule was, he was grateful it only applied to daylight hours. If he had to get up every twenty minutes throughout the night, he might as well turn into a giraffe every chance he got and power nap.

He’d just been wedging the camera--carefully as possible--into the side pocket of his backpack when he heard the faint hiss of his room door sliding open. A short glance revealed Kori, hovering an inch or two off the ground with her hands clasped in front of her and her neon green alien backpack slung over one shoulder. She was beaming, and her excitement flooded the room as natural as sunlight. His sixth sense found it soothing, and he managed to relax his shoulders.

“Shall we?” She asked, raising her palms to her chin. Gar chuckled, smiling at her as he pushed to his feet and jogged the short distance to his bed. Ellie lifted her head as he approached.

“Heck yeah!” He said, carefully scooping Ellie out of the towels. She wiggled enough to adjust in his hands. He carried her to his backpack, kneeling and settling her into the nest inside. Kori floated a little closer, touching a finger to the curve of her chin as she watched.

“Would it be acceptable to bring her with us?” She asked. “--I do not wish to leave her unsupervised, either, but…”

Gar huffed, zipping the pack, so about three inches were left open for air. “Well, that’s, uh. The tricky part. I can’t leave her here because she’s gotta be fed a lot and she can’t feed herself.” He lifted the backpack with practiced delicacy, bending and twisting his upper body to better weave his arms into the straps without tilting the pack. “And she doesn’t like being left alone, anyway. I went to the bathroom this morning, and on my way back I could hear her freaking out. Ravens don’t exactly flock, but they do usually have, like… a friend or a partner they hang with.”

“I see,” Kori said. She frowned a little, tilting her head to peer at the backpack. “Still… I would imagine a place such as a tattoo parlor would require sanitation and prevention of infection.”

“... are you saying Ellie’s a _dirty bird_?”

Kori’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands. “No! No, of course not, I did not mean--”

“--I was just teasing you, Kori,” Gar interrupted, laughing a little. He flashed her a grin, and she huffed, smiling despite the look she gave him. “But, uh. Yeah. You’re not wrong. Which is… why I kinda sorta need your help.”

“Of course.”

“What are the chances you think we can convince Rachel to come with us?”

Kori blinked. “I… do not know. Would she tend to Ellie while we are having the tattoos drawn?”

“Yeah! Or, that’s what I hope. I mean—Ellie will be fine as long as I’m nearby, I think. Just… don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave her at the Tower, even with Rachel.”

“I understand, Garfield, but how does this require my assistance?”

He smirked, giving her a single bounce of his brows. “Follow my lead, grasshopper.”

They exited his room and moved quickly to the elevator. One floor down, and they stepped into the hall. Kori toyed with one of the straps on her backpack while Gar carefully adjusted his own to be snugger against his back. Ellie peeped from inside, and he muttered assurance that it was only him. She made a softer sound, indicating she'd heard. They reached Rachel’s room at the hall’s end, and Gar knocked three times.

“Hey, Rachel!!” He said, winking at Kori. She smiled, albeit a bit nervously. “Kori and I got some awesome new jokes and puns!! Wanna hear’m?”

“No,” came the immediate response. Kori’s smile faltered, but Gar elbowed her gently.

“Aw, come on! Just three!! Bet we can get ya to laugh--third time's a charm, y'know!”

“I’m _busy_.”

“What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

He heard the distinct sound of a long, beleaguered sigh. “Arr.”

“No! ‘Tis the SEA!!”

“Go away, Gar.”

He elbowed Kori again, and she jumped a little, mouth fumbling mutely. “—Ah! Um, yesterday while we were gardening, Garfield found some fish who were shy. … They were obviously _coy_.”

Gar presses the back of his fist to his lips, snickering against his knuckles as Rachel groaned from somewhere behind the door, and Kori smothered a giggle.

“Are you done?”

“One more, one more! Knock knock!”

“Come i—“

She realized her mistake a second too late. Gar slapped his hand on the door button, grinning hugely as it hissed and slid open. Rachel sat, cross-legged, on the center of her bed with her phone in her lap. She glowered at him, one thick brow almost twitching with irritation.

“ **You**. Are _insufferable_.”

“Thanks! I know.” He stepped swiftly into the room, hooking his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. The environment’s chill crept up his spine, tickling his hairline. He ignored it, flashing Rachel a wide and triumphant grin. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I told you,” she said, voice terse, “I’m. _Busy_.”

His gaze trailed to the phone in her lap. “... With?”

“—Garfield and I were wondering if you wished to join our venture to the tattoo parlor today!” Kori said, quickly floating into the room. She landed beside, and a foot or so in front of, him. “We did not want you to feel as though your presence would be unwelcoming.”

To his surprise, Rachel straightened a little. The movement could have undoubtedly gone unnoticed had he blinked at the wrong time. Her brows knitted together, and she frowned. “That’s today?”

“Yes!” Kori said, nodding. “We are preparing to leave.”

A sharp squawk came from Gar’s backpack. Rachel’s eyes immediately locked onto him. She stared at him for a long moment, until her frown gradually deepened. “You’re… bringing the bird.”

“Ellie,” Gar said, raising his shoulders in a small shrug. “And, uh. Yeah. I kinda have to. She needs to be fed every twenty minutes or so. Whiiiiiich… is kinda another reason we were wondering if you could come along? Eheheh.”

“Oh.” Rachel’s expression flattened. She looked away, her eyes trailing to one of her bookcases to her left. Kori leaned forward, her clasped hands raising an inch or two.

“Sooo…?”

Rachel remained quiet. Then, her gaze slanted enough to peer at them from the corners of her eyes. “I’ll meet you on the roof. Five minutes.”

“--Dude, really?!” Gar asked, Kori gasping and grinning brightly as he spoke. Rachel nodded, raising one arm and flicking her wrist at them in a ‘shoo, shoo’ gesture.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

They all but scrambled out of her room.

Once in the elevator, Gar flashed Kori a wide grin, laughing a little as he shoved his thumb against the roof corridor’s button. “Good teamwork back there, by the way. She might’ve caught on if it were just me dueling out the jokes. Yours was cute.”

Kori smiled, allowing herself to lean into the elevator wall a little. The ceiling was mere inches above her head; just looking at her or Vic while inside the metal box made him feel knee-high to a grasshopper, and sometimes a little claustrophobic. "I am glad you liked it."

"Not bad word-play for an alien, my dude."

"You flatter me, earth dweller."

He smirked, snorting.

They exited the elevator and moved quickly down the hall to the roof stairwell. Kori soared up the steps, holding the door open for him as he bounded to the top. Gar nodded a silent ‘thank you’ and allowed himself to continue the light jog until he’d neared the roof’s center. It was still early in the afternoon, just past lunch. Some of the summer’s heat lingered in the air, nudged away every couple of seconds by the steady ocean breeze. He drank in a slow breath, half-lidding his eyes and tilting his head back and up to peer into the sky. Bright and blue, streaked with trails of cotton-clouds and dotted with the occasional flock of migrating birds. Scents of ocean salt and wet sand tickled his nose.

“Awesome day,” he said, exhaling and letting his drop forward as he turned to face Kori. She hugged her arms as she slowed beside him, also taking a moment to soak in the peace of the island.

“Yes,” she agreed.

They stood in silence until the roof door opened again. Rachel moved out, pocketing her hands into her navy hoodie. A black messenger bag was strapped over one shoulder, resting on her opposite hip. Gar eyed it as she approached but said nothing, offering a smile and a thumbs up instead. “Y’good?”

Rachel nodded. She extended one hand, holding her palm parallel to the ground. When she spread her fingers, the shadow beneath her feet grew until it formed a compact platform. She lowered her hand as it rose a few feet off the ground. Gar stepped up to it, twirling on his heel, so he sat on the edge and let his legs dangle off of it. Kori rose into the air, clapping and laughing a little as she soared towards the mainland. The disk lifted as well, flying shortly behind her.

Gar closed his eyes, exhaling as the warm air brushed against his face, swept through his hair. He preferred it under his own two wings. Preferred the weightless bubble in his chest from gravity’s pull, the freedom, openness of the sky at the tips of his feathers. But… this was nice, too.

“You’re really going through with this.”

He glanced back and up, blinking as he made eye contact with Rachel. Loose strands of purple hair trailed across her face, but she made no effort to guide them away. He smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah?”

Silence. He couldn’t tell if the cool twist in his stomach—just beneath the surface of his skin—was caused by her emotions or the magick he was seated on. Whatever the cause, he opted to change the subject before she pressed further or made him second-guess himself. “So, uh. —Thanks for coming along. I didn’t know what I was gonna do with Ellie since Vic’s not around today.”

Rachel nodded.

Gar started to turn forward, but he paused when a flash of light from her bag caught his eye. The top half of her phone was visible from the side pocket. He saw the time and a text alert. Gar side-glanced Rachel to ensure she wasn’t looking at him. Then, he blinked twice, swapping his human eyes for the keen gaze of a hawk’s. The phone ‘grew’ in size, sharpened in visibility. She had previews turned off (unsurprising) so there wouldn’t be a clue towards conversation. And… the alert didn’t have a name. It was just the crescent moon emoji. Nothing more. He blinked again, allowing his eyes to shift back.

“... who were you texting?”

Rachel’s gaze snapped to him, though she didn’t budge her head. “Mm?”

“When we came into your room? You said you were busy…?”

“What makes you think I was texting?” There was an edge in her voice now. 

Gar frowned, his ears flattening against his head. “Well, you prefer books when you’re reading or trying to find stuff. And… you’ve been texting a lot lately. Not to mention the other night. Your 'company.'”

Her eyes narrowed slowly, but he held eye contact. She looked away, the disk shifting sharply as they entered the city line. Gar grunted, gripping the edges as he slid an inch or two. He resisted the urge to glare back at her, knowing he’d been the one pressing. Again. Probably deserved that spook. Ellie squirmed against his back, squawking sharply. He hushed her, uttering a soft “I’m here” under his breath.

Below them, civilians paused to wave or cheer, some pulling out their phones to nab picture or video. Rachel ignored them as she usually did, whereas Kori smiled and waved, shouting the occasional “hello!” or “good afternoon!” to those who called her name. Gar grinned, lifting a hand to greet and salute to some cheering kids as they passed. He laughed when they cried his alias, leaning back on his hands once the disk rounded a building corner.

Rachel lowered the disk to the sidewalk and Gar slid off, letting himself drop two feet to the ground. He landed with a huff, cradling one arm under his backpack, and straightened as the disk dissolved and Rachel floated gracefully to the pavement. Kori settled beside him, beginning to bounce and clap her hands as she stared at the tattoo parlor entrance just across the street. “This is so exciting!”

“Heh!” Gar chuckled, finding himself unable to express the same excitement. He fell into step just behind her, gripping the straps of his backpack again. Inside, he could feel Ellie wiggle, one of her wings pressing into his spine through the fabric. He inhaled, trying to force the slow-growing anxiety away. Rachel would sense it. Kori would see it. He could do this. … he needed to.

Kori pushed into the parlor, stepping immediately to the counter. He slid through the door shortly after, holding it open long enough for Rachel to glide inside. She nodded at him and he let go of the handle, walking at her side through the small waiting area.

“My friend and I have an appointment,” Kori was saying, quickly slipping her alien backpack off her shoulders and unzipping it to retrieve her phone. “It should be for Garfield Logan and Kori Anders.”

The artist behind the counter ran his finger down a booklet Gar couldn’t, but he wasn’t listening anymore. His ears swiveled rapidly, twitching and jumping at each and every buzz of a needle. There weren’t many appointments going right now, but… he could see a woman towards the back getting the final touches on a sleeve. A man shortly in front of her getting an addition to an elaborate design on his spine that trailed the rear of his neck. There were bright lamps at every workstation; they were definitely there so the artist could better see their work, but. It sent a phantom shiver down Gar’s own vertebrae, and he swallowed. The saliva only seemed to thicken and swell in his throat.

“Gar.”

He stiffened, jolted out of mental paralysis. Rachel, still rooted by his side, had turned her head to look at him. Her gaze was steady as always, her expression placid yet alert. There was the faintest softness in her eyes. “... you alright?”

“—Yeah!” He said. His voice came quieter than he intended, and he cleared his throat as he began to slide out of his backpack. “Uh—would you go ahead and take Ellie?”

She reached out and took the offered straps with care. Gar managed a grateful smile as she slid the strap over her shoulder.

“Garfield, please come!”

His ears lifted as he turned his head to the front. A second tattoo artist—a young, medium-height woman with wild, curly dark blue hair that haloed her head and floral tattoos blossoming down her arms—had come from around the counter. She measured a translucent stencil of the lotus design to Kori’s arm. Gar wandered closer. His feet and legs were heavy.

“Is this too big?” The artist asked, arching a brow in Kori’s direction. Kori pursed her lips, craning her head a little to peer at the outer curve of her upper right arm.

“Perhaps. Is it possible to make it a little smaller? So it does not wrap so much?”

“I’ve gotcha, girl.” She turned to Gar, offering her free hand with a sideways grin. “It isn’t every day I get a local celebrity for a canvas. Call me Maua.”

He gripped her hand, giving it a brisk shake along with her as his head tilted. The name sounded familiar. But not in a ‘name’ sense. Gar felt himself smile back, one ear lifting just a hair. “Y’mean… like ‘flower’?”

“Oh?” Her brows rose, and something in her eyes and smile brightened. “Unasema Swahili? Ko Hausa?”

Gar’s smile grew a bit sheepish, and he released her hand to raise his, pinching his thumb and forefinger close. “Ehhh, kidogo. It’s… been a long time. Haven't had to use it lately.”

She nodded, popping her shoulders in a shrug. “My mother and my grandparents on her side speak fluently. Pops' side grew up with Hausa. Keeps us kids on our toes.”

“Heh! Cool.”

“Where’re we laying down this ink?” She asked, gesturing to him. He stiffened a little, momentarily drawing a blank, then pointed to his left hand.

“Uh—on the back. Right over my wrist?”

“Mm, I like.” She placed the stencil over his hand. “Mind if I ask where you learned?”

"Huh?"

"Swahili."

He shrugged, his smile shrinking. “I kinda grew up in Africa. My parents were biologists and worked with genetics. ...Picked up a couple things, I guess.”

"Ooooh. Nice. Very nice."

“I did not know you could speak another language!” Kori said, her eyes widening a little. Gar glanced at her.

“I wouldn’t say I _speak_ it, Kori. More like I know some phrases and random words. I haven’t, uh. Had to really speak it since I was, like. Eleven. I’m out of practice.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “It is still interesting.”

“Does this size look alright to you?” Maua asked, tapping her finger against the stencil. Gar glanced down, nodding despite that he barely registered the design, itself. He drew his arm back to him as soon as Maua stepped away, rubbing his thumb against the skin. It felt cold and kind of damp. Crap, were his hands sweating? Ugh, had she felt that? He gnawed the inside of his cheek, exhaling in a small gust through his nose.

“Alrighty,” Maua said, shooting them a smile. “--Kori, I’m going to be your artist today and, Gar--can I call you that?”

“Yup.”

“Awesome. Gar, my sister, Lulu, is gonna take care of you. If you’ll both follow me back here! We’ll get ya set up!”

She stepped to the side, pushing open the half-door leading to the back area of the parlor. Kori grinned hugely, stepping forward and through the doorway. Just as Gar began to move forward, his ear rose at the sound of his phone’s faint alarm. He turned around. Rachel had already plucked his phone from the side-pouch on his backpack, clicking her thumb against the ‘restart’ button. She looked up, nodding to him, and moved silently to the parlor doors. Gar exhaled, flexing his hands a little. He knew Rachel would take care of Ellie… he just hoped Ellie would behave herself. Ravens were mischievous by nature, even as babies. He doubted Ellie would be an exception to that.

With a tight swallow, Gar ventured through the door, stepping quick enough to stick close to Kori’s back. Maua lead them towards the back-most space, waving to one of the working artists as she passed before gesturing towards a chair. “Kori, if you could chill here, for me.”

“Yes!” Kori chirped. Gar tensed a little as she slipped from his side. He watched as she dropped into the chair, crossing her ankles. Just as she did, another woman stepped out of one of the side-rooms. Her head was clean-shaven and she had an array of white-ink tattoos swirling down her neck, shoulders and where her collar was visible. She stood maybe a foot over him. The woman blinked, surprised, at seeing the two of them, but extended a hand with a broad smile.

“Beast Boy,” she said, resting her other hand on her hip as he took the offered and shook it. “Name’s Lulu. Never thought I’d have the pleasure of meeting you in person.”

Gar chuckled, though it felt weak and nervous even to him, and bounced his shoulders up in a shrug. “Just ‘Gar’s okay, dude. But, uh, yeah! --if ya see me at the park, maybe we can hang out or something. Bring a frisbee; I'll catch it." He waggled his brows. _"No hands_.”

Lulu tilted her chin down, her own brows lifting to their highest point. “ _Mm_ , tempting! I’ll hold ya to it.” She gestured to one of the other chairs, nodding with a light chuckle. “Go ‘head and sit yourself down right there.”

With a slow nod, he turned and stepped towards the chair. A needle across the parlor continued to buzz. It felt like the sound was drilling against his own skull. Somehow, he managed to sit in the chair without missing it, and he pressed his palms into his lap. The air seemed thinner. He could hear Maua and Kori chatting but their words grew muted and blurred as though he were listening to them through thick wads of cotton. He was almost unaware of Lulu’s movements as she dropped into a chair just in front of him, slightly to his left, and began to tug a pair of blue gloves over her hands. He did notice, however, when she switched on the bright lamp just beside him. His hair stood on its ends.

“So, this your first tatt?” Lulu asked. He started to answer but his mouth had gone completely dry. He did manage to nod. She smiled, taking his palm in hers and eyeing the back of it. If she noticed it was shaking, she chose not to say anything. “That’s always a trip. You’re in good hands, though. My sis and I are both pretty pro at this, not to brag.”

"Uh, _yeah_ to brag," Maua called from her station. Lulu laughed.

Again, he nodded, though this time her words hadn’t entirely made sense in his head. He forgot them almost immediately as she said them. His eyes were locked on her hands, watching as she carefully rubbed a thin shaving cream over the hair on the back of his palm, then cleared it off with a small razor. The touch of the blade sent a jolt of panic through his stomach, weakening his lungs. Was the room getting whiter? He couldn’t make out the shapes in his peripheral vision. Lulu said something else but, again, the words came and went before he could grasp them. It was all beginning to feel like static in his head.

 _You’re fine,_ he told himself. _This is different. It’s different. You’ve faced all kinds of stuff before, this is nothing. Stop being stupid._

“Hey.”

He stiffened, pulling his ears forward as focus cleared his eyes. Lulu had bent sideways, so she was in front of him, now. She was frowning but not in a way that made him feel like she was upset. It seemed worried.

“You got _real_ pale,” she continued, eyeing his face. “You okay? Do y’need to lie down for a sec?”

Gar’s mouth fumbled mutely. “I…” He pressed his lips together, swallowing the tickles of bile around the curve of his throat. Somewhere in the shop, another needle buzzed. The sound filled his head. The light beside him seemed to get brighter. The gloves on her hands stood out like beacons. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. He wasn’t fine. He couldn’t do this. It wasn’t different. It was all the same. Once it was in his body, he wouldn’t be able to scratch it out.

His legs worked before he realized he was standing up, stepping away from the chair. Somehow he thought enough to let out a laugh; nervous as it was, the reaction was at least habitual enough to sound convincing to a stranger. Or, so he hoped. “I-I’m sorry, I … I just realized--uh!” Gar sucked in a breath, holding it long enough so he could think straight. Lying was easy. He just had to make sure the panic didn’t distract him. “I realized I didn’t th-think this through, uh. The ink might be poisonous to me when I morph! Y’know. Different… animal skins and all. Whoops, heh!”

Lulu blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. But she straightened, eyes widening a bit as her brows furrowed. “Oh! Wow, that hadn’t occurred to me, either. ... _huh_.”

“Garfield?”

He wanted to melt into the floor. Or better yet: Rachel's ghoul hands could wrap around his ankles and just yank him into some dark abyss where he'd float weightlessly. Fate accepted.

Gar turned his head, locking eyes with Kori. She had also stood up, towering over Maua as she clasped her hands in front of her. Her bright green eyes were scanning him, searching for words she knew he wouldn’t speak. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course!” He said, laughing again and shrugging. He kept his arms close to him. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Maua and Lulu exchanging concerned glances. “Just--y’know. Didn’t. Wasn’t thinking. But what else is new, right? Heh! Um. --m-maybe we can, uh. Have Vic test it. Or something. See if it’s a good idea--a-and come back!”

Kori’s brows knitted together. Just enough for him to see. But she nodded her head; if she didn’t buy it, she had decided to at least play along. “Yes. Of course! --oh.” She turned to Maua. “Is it possible to reschedule?”

“Sure thing!” Maua said, smiling as she removed her gloves. “We just gotta keep your deposit, y’know? Otherwise, give us a date, and I’ll try to make sure Lulu and I are ‘round!”

“Right,” Gar muttered. He’d forgotten about the deposit. Since Kori had taken it upon herself to schedule their appointments, she’d also been the one to put down that initial cash. At some point this week, he’d have to slip a couple bills somewhere only Kori would find them to low-key pay her back.

They moved back to the front of the parlor, Gar lightly hugging his arms and making almost a beeline for the doors. Just as he’d stepped through the small ‘gate’ to the back of the parlor, Rachel was moving back into the building. She looked up from her phone, blinking at him as he rounded towards the doors. “That… was fast.”

“W-we’re coming back another day,” he managed to say, forcing a weak smile. There was no way he was going to mask any of this around her, though. He could feel his own fear dripping off of him like cold rainwater. “I, uh. I didn’t… think about something that could be important.”

“So. You’re dropping the appointment?”

“Rescheduling!” Kori chirped. She flashed Rachel a smile as she moved back to the counter, Maua slipping into place on the other side. Gar swallowed. He reached out, absently taking his backpack from Rachel as she offered it and avoiding her gaze best he could. Kori continued. “We shall come back another day. Once Garfield has made certain the ink will not be dangerous to his animal forms.”

“...Could I take it?”

Gar looked up. Rachel wasn’t looking at him anymore. She wasn’t even standing in front of him. She’d stepped around him, moving into the space a foot or two behind Kori. And she was looking at Maua.

Maua looked up from the planner, her thick brows raising. “Take this appointment?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. Gar snapped his head to look at Kori just as she did the same, her eyes wide. They both looked at Rachel, unable to find the right words--or their voices--as she nodded her head. They watched her reach into the messenger bag resting on her hip and produce a thick book. She placed it gently on the counter, opening to a page she’d saved with a jeweled bookmark. “Would you be able to do this?”

He was moving forward before he could tell himself not to. Gar stopped at Rachel’s side, craning his head to look down at the open pages. One of her slender fingers was resting beside an illustration of a raven. It was in flight, wings spread and feathers splayed to catch the wind. Its feathers and wings were decorated with a series of symbols and runes, and the overall drawing had this almost… painted feel to it. Like he could see most of the strokes the brush had made.

“Oh, this is _gorgeous_ ,” Maua muttered. She raised a hand, waving it a little. “Lu, come look at this!”

Lulu moved swiftly from where she’d been tidying her workspace, joining her sister at the counter. Her eyes widened and a giant smile spread across her lips. “This is NICE. --just look at those details.”

Rachel shifted her weight between her feet as they looked the image over, muttering under their breath in a traded blend of Swahili and Hausa and pointing to areas of the raven that stood out to them. Gar’s ears raised, recognizing several of the words but finding himself unable to locate a translation in the back of his memory. He was still staring down at the image in Rachel’s book and trying to wrap his brain around what was transpiring. Maybe he'd bottled his anxiety over this whole thing too long, and he'd already passed out on the sidewalk somewhere; this might just be some weird fever dream. Even though he wasn't sick.

Man, he couldn't even make sense to himself.

“Where would you want it?” Maua asked, looking up as Lulu pulled the book closer to herself.

Rachel rotated, raising one arm to gesture towards her upper back. “My spine. The wings on my shoulder blades.”

“Oh, so we’re talking a pretty big one,” Maua said, her grin widening. There was an enthusiastic glimmer in her eyes as she snatched the book from Lulu, moving to the large printer on the far left side of the counter. She opened the top--where the scanner was--and placed the book face down on the glass. “Lulu and I could tag team on each side, then I could finish up the center. Dunno if we’ll have it all done in one afternoon, though. We could do the outlining today, check in with you in--ehhh--two to four weeks? See how you've healed and go from there?”

“Sure,” Rachel answered. Gar turned his head, meeting Kori’s eyes. Despite his nerves, despite the energy of the parlor itself, he could feel the excitement building in and around her. The only comparison he could think of at the moment was a shaken soda bottle, just waiting, itching to burst. It was all but seeping from her, twinkling in the green of her eyes. She wanted to shriek with unbridled glee, he could tell.

The printer beeped and Maua ducked beneath the counter. When she straightened back up, she was holding a large sheet of paper with the raven design printed on it. She rounded the bar, popping the gate open with her hip, and held the sheet out. “Would you be comfortable pulling your hoodie up so we can measure it on your back?”

Rachel hesitated. Gar stiffened, nodding to himself and raising one hand as he twisted to face the parlor windows. “Just, uh, tell me when you’re good!”

“Thanks,” she muttered. Gar nodded again, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. He could feel Ellie wiggle inside the backpack, one of her wings pressing briefly to the small of his spine. He smiled faintly, finding a bit of comfort.

Behind him, Maua and Kori discussed the placement of the tattoo on Rachel’s back. He twisted one ear to listen.

“Higher, perhaps?” Kori said. Rachel hummed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Maua muttered. “Then the wing… like that? We could have the tail splay right here.”

“Yes!” Kori chirped. She clapped her hands twice. “What do you think, Rachel? It is beautiful!”

Rachel hummed. Gar smirked a little, rocking his heels to his toes and back again. After a few seconds, she answered, “yeah. I like it. Maybe just a bit bigger?”

“You got it, my girl,” Lulu said from the counter. Shoes clipped on the wood floor; Gar’s ear swiveled. Wasn’t Kori or Rachel’s walking pattern. Must be Maua. He felt a hand lightly tap his arm and Rachel said,

“I'm good.”

Gar nodded, spinning on his heel to face her again. He couldn’t hide the broad smile or the excitement that must be smeared all over his face. “Dude. Were… --how _long_ have you been thinking about doing this?!”

“Mn.” Rachel shrugged nonchalantly. “A while.”

“What made you want to get one?!”

Rachel pressed her lips together, shrugging again. “I… guess it just. Occurred to me that… I can do what I want, now. And. It’ll actually matter.”

“Oh!” Gar blinked. Rachel visibly stiffened, and he felt a small cold spike in his ribs.

“--I _know_ it’s been four years,” she said quickly. “And it’s _stupid_ that it hasn’t set in until recently. But--”

“What? No! _No,_ it’s not! It's not stupid!” Gar cut in, holding his hands up and shaking his head. His smile softened. “I get it. You… you always thought that you were gonna… uh.” He trailed off, waving his hands vaguely. She glanced away but nodded, signaling she knew exactly what he was talking about. Gar dropped his arms back to his sides, popping his shoulders in a shrug. “So. It’s like. ...all this stuff you never thought could happen suddenly can? You can totally be yourself! --not that you weren't _before_ , but. Y'know? And it’s weird--a good-weird. But that’s cool!”

“Garfield is correct.” Kori stepped between them, leaning down to rest one arm across each of their shoulders. She smiled at Gar then turned her attention to Rachel, nodding once. “You are your own. Now more than ever before. And we could not be happier for you.”

“Totally,” Gar said. He grinned, winking, and Rachel squinted. But, make no mistake. He saw the corner of her lips twitch upwards.

Rachel sighed, nodding and ducking so she could slide out of Kori’s arm. “Right. Well. ...I guess you guys can wait around until they’re done for the day.”

“Actually, that may not be good etiquette,” Kori said, straightening to her full height. “We should not take up space in the waiting area. Garfield and I will busy ourselves elsewhere--perhaps even get a lunch! It is a nice day.”

“Yeah!” Gar agreed. “Just shoot one of us a text or whatever when they’re done and we’ll meet ya back here. And if you need extra cash, tell us! We’ll take care of it.”

A tiny, visible smile lifted the corners of Rachel’s lips, and she nodded. “Thanks. ...I… guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“You got it,” Gar said. He shot her a small finger-gun before taking backward steps towards the door. Black energy suddenly spread over his torso, halting him with a strained grunt. Rachel raised a brow, slanting her lips to one side.

“Don’t hit the wall and crush your bird,” she muttered.

Gar smiled awkwardly, chuckling as the energy dissolved. He quietly turned on his heel and walked forward to the door, pushing and dodging through it. A small group of civilians passed by just as he trotted onto the sidewalk. They called out his alias, and he mirrored their enthusiastic waves with both hands. His ear twisted at the faint squeak of the parlor door. Kori slid to his side, hands crossed behind her back and a soft smile on her face.

“So!” She said, turning a little to better face him. “Where shall we go? Perhaps we could find some snacks and enjoy the park?”

“Sounds good to me!” Gar said. He looked up at her but quickly looked down again. The fear was fading; he couldn’t hear the needles buzzing, smell ink or feel the cool touch of metal on his skin or the heat from a bright light. In place of that fear, the excitement for Rachel passed, and the guilt began to tighten around his stomach and heart. He pursed his lips, rubbing his left arm as he fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence for a while. Kori kept her stride wide but a bit slow, allowing his significantly shorter legs to keep pace with her own. Every couple turns on their way to the park, civilians would wave to them or cheer their aliases. One pair of small girls broke from their father’s side and all but tackled Kori’s legs. Gar stood by, smiling weakly as they laughed and demanded her warmest hugs. She happily obliged.

The park came into sight, and Gar swallowed. He inhaled a little, side-glancing Kori as they pushed into a small ice cream parlor. “Hey, uh. Kori?”

“Mm?” She hummed.

“I… I’m sorry,” He said. “I-I know you were really looking forward to getting matching tattoos--a-and I was, too! It was important a-and special to us, but I--”

“Garfield,” she interrupted, her voice firm but soft. She paused halfway to the counter, turning to face him. He pressed his lips together as she reached out and gently took his shoulder. And she leaned down until she was as close to eye-level as she could get to him without having to take an awkward position. “I understand. You were uncomfortable. I would _never_ ask you to do something that made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

Gar started to protest, but she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He clamped his jaw, twisting absently at his right pinky. Kori smiled, rubbing his shoulder with her thumb. “Please do not feel bad. I am not upset. I am glad you said something before it was too late. ...and. I understand your fear.” She paused, pressing her lips together. “I am not fond of needles, either.”

His spine stiffened, and he felt his eyes widen. The words had been spoken with a low lying sadness. The type of sadness that could only come with knowing.

The swell of concern. Of hatred. Of the desire to protect and guard and wipe away whatever stained those memories. Was almost overwhelming. He could feel it rise from his stomach and up into his throat, tightening the muscles. Gar inhaled, thin, through his nose, all but swallowing the breath. He'd known she'd been betrayed, sold to those Gordanians, but... if she was implying they shared a twisted common ground... that she, too, had once been viewed as little more than a scuttling rat in a lab...

Kori must have seen the shift in his eyes, his posture, because her smile became almost pleading as she squeezed his shoulder again and shook her head. “It is okay.”

“ _No_.” The word hissed out of him before he could think to stop it. He bit his tongue with his back teeth, digging into it. Kori shook her head. She cupped his face with her free hand and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Gar watched as she drifted away and moved to the counter, flexing his hands open and closed. Inside his backpack, Ellie wiggled. His sensitive ears caught a small ‘peep,’ and he shifted one arm enough to gently nudge the side of the pack back. Again, she chirped, and he trailed after Kori to the counter.

Gar reached back and dug his wallet out of his pocket, gingerly elbowing Kori’s side as he stepped to her left. He cleared his throat in an attempt to stifle any growl that might have tried mixing with his words. “My treat.”

“Oh!” She blinked, looking at him. She pointed to her own backpack. “But I brought my--”

“--I got it,” he said, quickly flashing her a smile. “Really. I want to. ...that cool?”

She stared at him for a moment before a slow, gentle smile lifted her lips. She nodded. “Thank you, Garfield.”

They made their orders. One medium cup of ice cream each. For Kori, a blend of classics: butter pecan, chocolate raspberry swirl and honey almond and cream. For him, a mix of September specials: lavender, peach and passionfruit sorbet. Treats in hand, they exited the parlor and continued towards the park. Gar’s phone alarm pinged from the pocket of his backpack. It was time for Ellie’s next meal.

Once in the park, they located a small picnic table by a tree. Kori slid onto one side as Gar gingerly placed his backpack on the table, reaching inside to retrieve the turkey baster baggy and the small towel nest Ellie sat in. Upon seeing him, she began to squawk and extend her neck, beak open and eager for food. He grinned at her, placing the towel-nest on the table as he sat down.

“Someone’s _hangry_ ,” he said. Kori giggled, scooping some of her ice cream up with her spoon.

“She is quite excited.”

Ellie squawked again, her wings twitching impatiently. The moment she was offered the turkey baster she lunged at it, a warbling noise gurgling from her throat as she greedily gobbled at the mouth. Gar and Kori snorted, attempting to muffle their laughter with the backs of their hands. Within a minute Ellie had quieted down. Gar held the baster in one hand, scooping ice cream with the other.

“Did you know Rachel wanted a tattoo?” He asked around his spoon, ears lifting. Kori shook her head.

“No!” She said, briefly looking up at him before turning her eyes back to her ice cream. “I was just as surprised as you were. I did not think Rachel had interest in such methods of self-expression. But I am glad for her! It is good to see her embrace her future and herself. She is free.”

Gar smiled, nodding. “Yeah. It’s super awesome. I’m really happy for her, too. Must be… weird. --not, like, bad-weird, but… y’know. Overwhelming, I guess. To be able to do all this stuff you thought was just gonna... go away.”

“Yes,” Kori agreed.

They ate in silence for a moment. Ellie finished off her meal and Gar returned the baster to the baggy. Once it was settled into his backpack, he reset the timer on his phone and tucked it into the side-pocket. Then he folded one arm across the edge of the table, stirring at the remains of his ice cream. “... so…”

Kori glanced up, spoon poking out of her mouth. He raised a brow.

“Speaking of Rachel. Uh. ...do… you know anything about this ‘friend’ of hers? Y’know--the one she’s been texting or whatever?”

“I do not,” Kori said, shrugging a little. She rotated her spoon in the soupy remains of her ice cream, nudging at stray pecans and almonds. “She does not talk about them.”

“At all?”

“No.”

He pursed his lips. “When… did she start texting them? --I don’t remember her being so attached to her phone back in May. But I coulda been distracted.”

“Ah. In the middle June, perhaps?” Kori looked up at him. “Victor noticed first. But we did not say anything about it for some time. It was unusual, yes, but… I do not know. Rachel values her privacy, of course. We did not want to overstep our boundaries and anger her.”

Gar frowned, nodding. “Yeah.”

“...you are worried.”

“Kinda.”

“Perhaps you should speak to her about it.”

He looked up, ears and spine stiffening. “-- _Ask_ her? **Really** , Kori? You _just_ brought up the boundaries thing.”

Kori sighed, tilting her head. “Victor and I have both already asked. To ask again may be pushing too much. But… _you_ have not asked, have you? Perhaps she would answer you.”

“ _Me_?” The word fell out, flat and incredulous. He stared at her. “What makes you think she’d tell _me_ if she didn’t tell you guys?”

Kori shrugged. He got the vibe she had something to add but knew better than to do it now. Or at all.

Gar tilted his head back, letting out a loud sigh. He let this posture stay for a moment or two before sitting up straight again, looking down and gently rubbing his fingertips on Ellie’s head. She clicked her beak and settled further into the towel-nest. “Okay, well… I dunno.” Gar huffed. “But. You and Vic really don’t know anything about whoever this is?”

“No. We do not.” Her frown softened. “I would tell you otherwise. I am certain Victor would, as well.”

Gar nodded. Ellie tilted her head, giving his finger a nibble.

Once they’d finished off the remains of their ice cream, Gar gathered the bowls and carried them to a trash can. He’d just disposed of them when his ear twitched, catching the squeal of children and the soft thudding of shoes on grass. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling as he spotted a small gaggle of girls and boys sprinting as quickly as their little legs could carry them towards Kori. They were shouting her alias in a mess of excited and breathless voices. “ _Starfire!!_ Starfire, **Starfire**!”

Kori glided away from the picnic table with effortless grace, laughing as she knelt on the grass and extended her arms to the oncoming stampede. They swarmed her, filling the air with delighted shrieks and laughs. Gar chuckled, starting towards the soon to be dog-pile. A young girl noticed him first. She gasped, brown eyes going wide as she pointed at him.

“It’s Beast Boy!!”

Their heads rotated towards him in immediate unison. Kori sent him a full, beaming grin.

“‘Sup, lil’ dudes?” Gar said, flashing the kids a toothy smile. Again, a chorus of squeals and shouts that burned his sensitive ears. He'd tolerate it.

Some of the kids broke away from Kori and ran towards him. He laughed, letting himself drop to sit in the grass and grunting sharply when one of the girls all but threw herself at him, her tiny arms slung around his neck. He let himself topple backward with a dramatic sound, and the children broke into laughter. “Holy cow, you’re _so strong_! Have you been training with Wonder Woman? Or Black Canary?”

“No!!” The girl giggled, wiggling away from him. He let his arms sprawl outwards to give her space. Once she’d crawled backward, he sat upright and accepted a high-five from one of the boys. The girl who’d tackled him squared her feet and propped her hands on her hips, letting her chest puff out. “I’m strong!”

“Uh, YEAH you are!” Gar said, holding up his hand for her, as well. "You could totally kick my butt!"

She smacked her palm against it, triumphant.

No sooner had she done that did the flood of requests roll in. Kori and the children who’d swarmed her found their way over just as he heard demands for a giraffe, a dog, a tiger and a monkey (why the monkey was always so popular, he’d never been able to figure out). He quickly held up his hands, trying to calm them. Kori took one of his hands and helped him back to his feet. “Hey--hey!! Chill out, tiny dudes.”

The demands and cheering softened, though one or two of the kids still bounced on their toes. Gar took a moment to cast a glance towards the picnic table. Ellie’s head peeked out from the top of the towel-nest, tilted, so one of her eyes was locked on him. He shot a glance to Kori and she nodded, turning to jog back towards the picnic table. Gar directed his attention back to the children. “That’s better! I can hear y’guys, now!” He wiggled his ears for emphasis; the kids laughed. “Whatcha want?”

“A puppy!” One of the boys shouted.

“No! A lion!!” A girl declared.

“A three-horn!!” Another girl cried, throwing her arms in the air. Gar straightened, his grin widening.

“Ohhhh, someone watch _Land Before Time_ recently?”

The girl smiled hugely, nodding her head. "I love Cera!"

"She's one tough cookie!" He winked at her, taking a long step backward. “Alrighty-roo. Stand back!”

He leaned forward, swinging his arms down. Then, he threw himself back and onto his hands, flipping into a handspring and bounding two rotations back before whirling into a backflip. As he came out of it, he morphed. The sound of his large, padded feet hitting the ground was thunderous, and the herd of children shrieked with joy even as some of them toppled into the grass after the shockwave of his heavy landing.

Gar snorted, giving his head a shake. Despite how the change had muddied his vision, he could still make out the fuzzy shapes of the kids bouncing, squealing and racing towards him. A more substantial form was also jogging back to him. Kori. He recognized her laugh with ease.

It took a matter of minutes for the kids to start climbing. Kori helped them pile onto his back, guided them away from his feet and seated them on the curves where his horns connected to his skull. The extra weight took a moment to get used to.

He wandered about the park, allowing Kori’s gentle hand on his crest to guide him. They didn’t go far from the picnic table so Kori could keep an eye on their backpacks, but slowly circled it and the tree. The kids took turns riding on his back, crying out to their parents to look and watch and cheer them on. Some even perched on his tail, kicking their legs and squealing when the sway of his steps would sling them off, tumbling through the grass. One of the smaller children scratched up his elbow and began to cry, but Kori’s soft words and comfort quieted him. He was soon placed atop Gar’s right horn, cheerful and bubbling as ever.

Parents eventually wandered over to collect their kids. Gar waited until Kori had plucked all of them from his person before shifting back to his tiny, human form. He straightened to his natural height, grunting and rolling his shoulders back with a small tilt of his head. He rubbed the area just to the front of his temple, throwing Kori a smile as she handed the last of the kids over to their mother. “Been a while since I was a triceratops.”

Kori waved to the girl as she leaned over her mom’s shoulder, then turned to beam at him. “You were wonderful!”

“ _Pfff_ ,” he raised a hand, waving it dismissively. “Wasn’t anything special.”

She smirked. The little crowd that had formed around them had separated, families and friends and strangers going their separate ways.

They started back to their table. No sooner had they turned that way when a voice rang across the small section of the field. It was a male's, and it was accompanied by low, mocking laughter. “Hey, **freak**!!”

Gar’s ear twitched, but he didn’t bother turning his head. He didn’t have to. Conceited as it might seem, he knew who the jeer was directed at. The group of jerks would lose interest soon enough.

Kori, however, snapped her head around to glower in the direction of the call. He felt an electric rush in his veins and clenched one hand, gently elbowing her arm. “Ignore ‘em, Kori.”

“But--”

He quickly shook his head. “S’fine.”

She looked down at him, her eyes flashing, but remained silent. They returned to the table and their seats on opposite sides. Gar opened his backpack, peering in to check on Ellie. She tilted her head and chirped softly as she saw him. He smiled, reaching in and gently removing her towel-nest from the bottom of the pack.

He feigned obliviousness to the fact Kori was staring at him, taking his time in gathering the turkey baster and refilling it with more of the gross looking mix. But he couldn’t avoid her for long and, soon, he slowly turned his eyes up to her. They stared at each other for a moment as Ellie gobbled at the end of the baster. Then, Kori’s expression softened.

“It is _not_ fine.”

Gar sighed, looking back down. “Okay, maybe it’s not. But. --I mean, it doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it.”

“You should not be,” she said, her voice firming but remaining gentle and low. “You are **not** a freak.”

He snorted and regretted it immediately. Kori stiffened in the corners of his eyes. “Garfield!”

“--I’ve been called worse things, Kori,” he said quickly, looking up and raising his free hand. “Seriously. ‘Freak’ is about as unoriginal as it gets.”

“You… have been called worse?”

“Uh… well. Yeah. I went to public school.”

“Such as??”

“Oh, y’know. Uuuh, ‘snot wad,’ 'Nick slime,' ‘grass ass’--sorry, language. Um. A lot of…bad ones I really don’t wanna repeat to you.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because teenage boys can be seriously gross, Kori.”

“... _ah_.”

“You ...get what I’m--”

“--yes, I understand.”

“Right.” His face warmed and he looked down, watching Ellie as she shifted in the towel. “ _Anyway_. It’s not a big deal. I got used to it, rolled my eyes, whatever. They’re just jealous ‘cause I’m so dashing. And because being a 'freak' means I get to hang with some of the coolest people around--like you! The worst thing I’ve ever been called didn’t have anything to do with the way I looked.” He shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

Kori blinked. When he looked up at her again, confusion had etched itself into her brows and mouth. The heat in his face, in his neck, increased. He pressed his lips together, willing her not to push. But she did. “And… what… was that? The worst thing?”

“It…” he looked down again. “... uh. Clorbag ...varblerneilk.”

The look on her face could have materialized itself into a sentient creature, crawled across the table and stabbed him clean through the heart with the turkey baster. Gar raised his hands, and Ellie let out an irritated squawk as her food source pulled away from her beak.

“--Kori, _don’t_ ,” he said quickly. “I-it’s okay!”

“But I--”

“ **No** \-- _no, no_! I-I deserved it! It’s fine!” He tried to smile. “It… --the only reason it’s the ‘worst’ is because i-it was _you_! And… and _I_ hurt your feelings. And I don’t… --I didn’t _ever_ want to hurt you. So. That’s why it’s the worst. B-because **you** said it because I hurt you--hurt your feelings. D-does that make sense? Am I making sense? Ugh. _Please_. Please don’t feel bad. I was stupid and did something stupid and it’s okay. --Not the stupid thing, that wasn’t okay, but the name was okay! And… I’m okay. I just. I just don’t **ever** want to do something that would make you call me that again because it’d mean I’d hurt you again. I-I don't want to hurt you again.”

His mouth moved mutely for a moment before the last of his breath spilled out in a silent gust, and he slumped where he sat. Ellie flicked her wings, squawking loudly at him and stretching her neck out to try signaling for more food. Kori sat silently on the other side of the table, her eyes wide and watery. Gar bit the inside of his cheek.

“Kori, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to up--”

She reached across the table, offering him her hand. He hesitated before quietly accepting it, giving her palm a small squeeze. He attempted a weak smile but it faded, and he shrugged a little. Ellie twisted her head, looking back and forth between the two of them as they sat in silence. Kori rubbed the backs of his fingers with her thumb, and he stared at the table as she glimpsed the park over. She might have wiped at the corners of her eyes.

At some point, Kori began to hum. It was an unfamiliar little tune. Or, unfamiliar in the sense that he would never have recognized it if he hadn’t met her. It was a Tamaran song. One she hummed pretty often, actually. He couldn’t remember the words since they were Tamaran, too. But he’d always liked it. There was something strangely soothing about it.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed but she squeezed his hand again, bringing him from the fog of his thoughts back to ‘reality.’ He looked up and she smiled, tilting her head as she looked him over. “You have grown.”

Gar blinked, his brows wrinkling. “Huh?”

“You have grown,” she repeated, leaning a little closer. “Perhaps not in height--”

“--obviously.”

She giggled. “I mean in your heart. ...you have learned _so much_ since the time I met you. You should be proud.”

For a brief moment, he permitted himself to swell. He allowed that pride to trickle in, to fill him with confidence that had slowly eroded away over the summer. But the swell stopped. Hesitated. Shrank. And he looked back down, shifting his gaze to Ellie. She stared up at him quietly. Her bright, blue-ringed eyes fixed on him. A tiny sound emitted from her throat and she puffed her feathers.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. Gar looked up, allowing his features to soften as he nodded. “Thanks, Kori.”

She beamed at him. Then, all at once, she straightened and gasped a little. He blinked, but before he had the chance to ask her what was up, she pointed at his hand in her own. “--Is this the one?”

“Huh?” He asked, confused. Her smile widened.

“Is this the hand you meant to get tattooed?”

“--Oh! Uh, yeah! Yeah, that one.”

Kori squeaked, and she reached for her backpack. Her one free hand fumbled with the zipper, and she grunted, huffing irritably when it refused to budge. Gar couldn’t help the slow-growing smirk on his mouth as he watched, intrigued and delighted. The question was on the tip of his tongue but… he was more curious to just see where this was going. Wait it out. For another minute tops.

She did manage to open the alien’s head enough to wiggle a hand inside and fish around. After a few seconds, she gasped and withdrew her hand, a black marker grasped in her fingers. Gar blinked, straightening as he realized what she intended to do. “--Oh!!”

“Here?” She asked, pressing a finger to the back of his palm. He nodded, scooting on the bench to push closer to the table. Kori bit down on the cap of the marker, plucking it off with a brisk tug of her arm and lightly spitting it to the side. Gar grinned as the cap bounced across the wooden surface before leaning in to watch as she ducked over his hand.

“I accept payment in the warmest of the ‘bear hugs,’” she said with a flare of authority. Gar wasn’t sure if he could grin any wider (although, if someone could make that possible, it would be her).

“Lucky for you, I’ve got bear hugs to spare,” he said, tipping his chin up. “Both literal and not-so-literal.”

Kori giggled and pulled her phone from her pocket. She clicked around on it to locate the lotus flower picture while he reached out with his free hand and dug around in his backpack. His fingers found the camera and he produced it, moving it as delicately as he could with one hand. The touch of the marker was cool on the back of his palm. He leaned forward, watching as she carefully mirrored the image on her phone. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she squinted. Gar snickered, fumbling with the camera for a moment as he lifted it and aimed so it would catch both her face and her work in progress. The camera clicked. Kori didn’t look up, but she smiled wider.

“Y’want me to do you next?” He asked, setting the camera on the table. Ellie tipped her head towards it when the lens caught the light. Kori nodded enthusiastically, glancing up at him just long enough to make eye contact before looking back to his hand.

“That would be wonderful.”

“Sweet.”

He sat still as he could manage, looking from Kori, to his hand, to Ellie and back again. A minute longer and she finished the task, leaning back with a twinkle in her eye and a smile. Gar pumped his fist, cheering softly as he slid from his spot on the bench and raced around to her side of the table. She scootched to the side to give him space, and he perched next to her as she passed him the marker.

“Here?” He asked, lightly poking her bicep’s center. She smiled, nodding as she pulled her hair to the other side of her neck, and he gave her a thumbs up.

He felt stupidly nervous attempting to copy the simple image of the lotus onto her arm. Sure, the marker would fade with time but it would still be there for… well, in their line of work, who really knew. Either way, he didn’t want it to look dumb. When he’d finished, he leaned back on his haunches and Kori craned her head, extending her arm to get a better look. She gasped, delight filling her features.

“It is perfect!!”

“Yeah?” He grinned lopsidedly. “It might be a little shaky, but, uh--”

“No,” she interrupted, giving him a warm smile. “It is perfect.”

Gar blinked, inhaling a little as he felt his chest swell. He leaned back, raising one foot and lightly nudging her in the side with the toe of his shoe. “You need to _stop_. You know how easy I blush.”

Kori laughed. So did he.

They used the camera to take a picture of her new ink, too. Then to take an attempted selfie. Gar wasn’t sure the angle was right or if they had enough distance between them and the lens to catch both the back of his palm and her arm in the picture, but… as Wally had said, he was curious--and kind of excited--to see if they’d managed to pull it off. And, thinking of Wally, they took a second selfie with Gar’s phone and sent it to him. It took a minute or two, but Wally replied just as Ellie was offered her next meal.

> [forceofnature, 2:33pm]: DUDE!! You guys did it!! Those look AWESOME!!! :D

Gar smiled at the text, lifting his gaze just enough to send Kori a slightly awkward glance. “He, uh. I think he thinks they’re legit.”

“Are they not?” Kori asked, folding her arms on the picnic table and leaning forward. He snorted, the smile sliding into a smirk as his brows rose. She shrugged and extended one hand, gingerly taking the baster from him. “I shall feed her. You talk.”

“Yes, my alien warrior princess dude.”

He clicked on Wally’s contact options and hit the call button, tapping his thumb on the speaker button. It only rang once.

 _“It didn’t hurt, did it?”_ Wally’s voice came through clear and just loud enough for both of them to hear. _“I heard it depends on where you get it. Boney areas like hands and feet can be painful, I think?”_

“We, uh,” Gar started, tilting the phone absently as he held it towards the center of the table. “We didn’t exactly…--okay, I didn’t exactly go through with it. I kinda chickened out at the last second.”

“And that is fine,” Kori said firmly. Wally chuckled on the line.

_“She’s right you know. No shame in that.”_

“Yeah,” Gar said, his smile softening a little.

 _“Hey, dude,”_ Wally said, _“you gave it a shot and it wasn’t for you. That’s cool. I’m sure the two of you will find something else to share. Maybe you can get a color streak in your hair or something! Swap it out every couple months but always match!”_

Gar’s ears raised a little and he looked at Kori, gesturing at the phone. She grinned and shrugged.

“That’s a neat idea, actually,” Gar said. He started to add to that but stopped when his phone chimed. Kori’s pinged hardly a second later. She turned it to her and looked up at him, mouthing ‘Rachel.’ He nodded. “--Hey, dude, we, uh, gotta get moving. I’ll text you later?”

 _“I’ll be around!”_ Wally said.

“Cool! --Oh! And I think I’m almost done with the film.”

_“Even better! We can work out when to go get it developed tonight! Sound good?”_

“Awesome.”

_“Stay safe, you two!”_

“You, as well, Wally!” Kori said, tucking her phone and marker into her backpack. The line clicked and Gar pocketed his phone, gingerly scooping Ellie’s towel-nest into his hands.

Once she’d been securely settled into his backpack, they were off. To make the trip a bit quicker, Gar climbed onto Kori’s back and slung his arms over her shoulders. She hooked her arms under his legs and pushed into the air, soaring out of the park and back into the city.

They reached the tattoo parlor and Gar slid off Kori’s back, grunting as his feet hit the ground. He kept one arm tucked under the bottom of his backpack so Ellie wouldn’t take as much of the landing. Kori exchanged a glance with him, and they pushed inside, eager to see their friend and what progress had been made.

A couple more people had moved into the waiting area. They were greeted--by soon to be customers and artists alike--before Maua appeared. She grinned at them, gesturing with one hand while holding up a single finger with the other. “Just one’ve y’all. Lulu’s gettin’ her wrapped up in the back.”

“Cool,” Gar said, and he tilted his head at Kori. She nodded, grinning as she jogged to the gate and nudged it open, following close at Maua’s heels. Gar pocketed his hands and stepped to one of the walls, leaning his arm against it. His ears swiveled, taking in the sounds of the shop, the chatter from the patrons, the booming music from the speakers snarling words he couldn’t make out. Mild anxiety bubbled in the pit of his stomach once again. It was stupid--paranoid, even--but he tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Instead, his gaze wandered the various artist displays, photos of previous tattoos and other decorations that lined the shop.

A flash of golden-orange flickered in the corner of his eyes, and he looked up. Kori, all but floating off her own two feet, was moving back towards the waiting area. Rachel followed close behind, Lulu and Maua shortly after. His friends exited through the gate while the artists rounded to their side of the bar. Rachel leaned, a bit stiffly, on the counter with her arms as Lulu opened the appointment book. They arranged a time to finish up the tattoo, Rachel passed over a small wad of bills, and the three headed back to the sidewalk.

Gar wheeled on her, but before he could so much as gasp out a question, she raised one hand, her gaze firm.

“ _Wait_ ,” she said, sharply but not unkindly, “until we get back.”

He clamped his mouth shut, nodding.

Rachel flew him home on another black disk, Kori soaring beside them. He could barely contain himself; the urge to pace circles around the disk as Rachel stood quietly in the center was almost overwhelming. Somehow, he managed to remain seated on the front edge, feet dangling and toes twitching and bouncing inside his shoes. His fingers couldn’t stop knotting the straps of his backpack.

They landed on the roof and Rachel quickly stepped off the disk. It dissolved almost too fast, and Gar stumbled to catch himself as his hand slipped through the air. Kori gently grabbed his shoulder and helped him get upright. They followed, right at Rachel’s heels, as she moved from the center of the roof to the door, down the stairwell, and into the hall. Kori broke first.

“-- **Oh!** May we see it?!” She all but squealed, curling her hands shut and shaking her fists just beneath her chin. Gar sprang forward to Rachel’s side, leaning around her in attempt to make eye contact.

“C’mon, Rach!! You gotta show us-- _please_?!”

She side-glanced him, then moved to the elevator. Gar let out an impatient little sound, dropping his arms to his sides in a slouch. Had Ellie not been in his backpack, he might have kangaroo-hopped after her in an attempt to annoy-coax it out of her. It didn’t always work but… sometimes it did.

Rachel slid into the elevator. She didn’t look at either of them until they’d taken places on the side opposite to hers. The doors shut. And, finally, she shifted her gaze to them. They beamed at her, smiles wide, eager and pleading. To their mutual surprise, a tiny smile played the corners of her mouth. She turned away from them and reached down and around herself, carefully pulling the bottom of her hoodie up until it caught on the tops of her shoulders. A layer of plastic wrapping held a piece of gauze over her skin.

“One of you will have to peel it back,” she muttered, peeking over her left shoulder. Gar glanced at Kori; she nodded, stepping the small distance to Rachel and very delicately taking the plastic between her fingertips. She gingerly pulled, and Gar winced a little as he caught areas of Rachel’s back twitch as the gauze stripped back.

The raven came into view. It was unfinished, of course, but they could see the carefully inked outline of its body, of its wings and of the runes and symbols scattered throughout the lines of its feathers. The way Lulu and Maua had drawn it into her skin, so the wings and feathers flowed with the natural curves and movement of her body, was so incredible that he wasn’t even sure how to set it to words. Incomplete as it was, he could already tell it was going to look elegant and mysterious. A perfect fit.

“Oh, _Rachel_!!” Kori gasped, one of her hands clasping against her mouth. She wiggled in place, tiny squeaks emitting from behind her palm. “It is beautiful!!”

“It’s not finished yet,” Rachel said. “Obviously.”

Kori let out a huff, dropping her hand. “Still!”

“ **Dude** ,” Gar said, unable to calm his grin or the buzz of excitement in his chest in the slightest. It felt like he was going to burst. “This is _so_. **Cool**.”

Rachel shrugged. She hesitated, then quickly looked up as Kori began to replace the wrapping. “--Wait.”

Kori paused, and again, Rachel hesitated. She seemed to chew her bottom lip before shifting her hands so one could still hold up the hoodie while the other fished through her messenger bag. She retrieved her phone, turning just enough to offer it to Gar. “Could… you take a picture?”

He blinked, mouth falling open as his hand moved on its own to accept the phone. “... seriously?”

Rachel nodded.

“Okay, uh.” He tapped the home button, swiping to pull up the camera. Kori shuffled to the side so she couldn’t intrude, and Rachel straightened a little, raising her chin just enough so her face could clearly be seen over her shoulder. Gar gnawed the inside of his cheek as he aimed the camera, focused it, and snapped the picture. He passed the phone back to her and she glanced the image over, nodding.

“Thanks.”

“Sure! ...um.” She looked at him again, gaze sharper this time, and he held up one hand. “I just… would you mind if I took a picture, too? For the scrapbook or album or whatever? --If not that’s totally cool--”

“Fine,” she said. It was one word, but it took it a few seconds to thoroughly seep into his brain. He sucked in a breath, twisting to fumble the camera out of the side pocket on his backpack. As he tugged it free, Ellie squeaked from inside, her wing smacking his spine through the fabric.

Gar once again aimed at the tattoo, but this time with the film camera. He waited a moment--the elevator had pinged to let them know it’d be hitting the OPs Room floor shortly--then snapped the picture. He’d just started to lower the camera when the elevator doors slid open. They looked out.

Vic glanced up from the panel on his arm. He locked eyes with Gar first, then turned his head. His eyes only lingered on Kori for a half a second before they snapped down to Rachel’s back, locking onto the fresh ink. None of them moved for a long moment.

Vic inhaled sharply and swung his arms, smacking his hands together in a thunderous clap before clenching his fists in front of him, the grin on his face massive and his human eye wild with excitement.

“ ** _HOT DAMN!!!_** ”


	10. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long wait! i've taken on some artistic projects and am still learning how to evenly distribute my time. thank you, again, for reading and sticking with me! hope you enjoy. c:

> [BETTErthanu, 12:15am]: wait wait wait so it takes a WEEK 2 get ur pics done???
> 
> [alligartor, 12:17am]: uh yeah. thats what the dude said. it has to go to a lab or s/t? old stuff is wild.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:17am]: dumb
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:17am]: altho itll be funny 2 see if u did any good lmao
> 
> [alligartor, 12:20am]: hey! i know i took great pics just you wait.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:21am]: waiting is boring. want results.

Gar snorted, rolling his eyes under the glow of his phone.

It’d been four days since he and Wally had stopped by a shop and passed the film over. Which meant three more days of waiting, plus an additional day depending on the status of the film. As usual, he was impatient. So was Wally (unsurprising; it was a quality speedsters are notorious for). The good news, Gar guessed, was that the wait gave him time to figure out what he was going to do with the pictures once he got them. He hadn’t really looked into an album, a box didn’t quite feel right and taping them to his walls didn’t either. Maybe he and Wally could stop by a hobby shop or something, grab a photo album on their way back from getting the pictures.

Gar wiggled a bit, pressing his heels into the mattress and wedging himself to sit up against the wall. Once comfortable, he responded to Bette’s text.

> [alligartor, 12:25am]: you and me both sister.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:26am]: damn rite
> 
> [alligartor, 12:29am]: could you please spell when you text me? its hard to read.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:30am]: STILL? i told you to make the font bigger!
> 
> [alligartor, 12:32am]: i did!! i dunno. maybe its because my rooms dark and the phone light is blinding me.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:33am]: turn your room light on or dim your phone, einstein.
> 
> [alligartor, 12:35am]: phones already dimmed. room light is aaaaaalll the way over thereeeeee.
> 
> [BETTErthanu, 12:36am]: the struggle is real.

His thumbs lifted to craft the most dramatic emoji he could think of when a new notification appeared at the top of his phone.

> **Mom**  
>  _Garfield. I know it’s late and hopefully, you’re asleep…_

The preview trailed off, and he stared in still silence at the notification until it faded from his phone screen. Gar inhaled slowly, letting his eyes roll up and away from the screen to stare into the ceiling. A month. He’d made it nearly a month without… this having to come up. Part of him had hoped it would have taken longer. Another part of him wished it’d happened sooner. He felt near perfectly split, unable to decide which he would have wanted. Neither seemed more comforting.

The wave came quick. His legs began to ache. His hands got twitchy, his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on the sides of his phone. Restlessness. A desire, a need, to move or pace. Ellie’s towel-nest was coiled on the bottom bunk. She might get scared if she noticed him leave, and it might throw off her feeding schedule if he kept her up and awake. Of course, he could sneak out. He’d done it multiple times before with stakes far more drastic. The trick was going to be taking his phone with him.

Gar slanted his eyes, staring at his room door. It’d be quieter than opening his window, that was for sure.

He scooted to the edge of his bed, letting his bare feet dangle over the edge. It’d be quieter without shoes. He preferred it without shoes, anyway. He placed his phone at the top of the bunk’s ladder, shifting into a small monkey and padding down the rungs in silence. Once on the floor, he shifted back, rolling onto his tip-toes. He scooped his phone off the mattress, pausing to eye the center of the bottom bunk. Ellie’s tiny, black form just barely stood out beneath the shadows, revealed only by the pale blue of the towels. Her feathers swelled and shrank with every slow, relaxed breath. She was still asleep. Good.

He inhaled, putting his phone in his mouth. His form shrank into a lynx, and he trotted the short distance across the room. The pads and toes of his paws spread with each step, helping to better absorb and muffle his footfall. The cat’s natural size was just enough for him to rear onto the wall and touch his nose against the door controls. He shut the automatic off with a nudge, switched it to manual. If the power in the Tower ever went out (and it had before, despite Vic’s promises and efforts) their doors had grooves to act as handles. With the automatic response off, the door wouldn’t hiss upon opening it. It’d glide open, soundless and smooth. Gar shuffled to the right, wedging one paw into the groove and shifting his weight to the right as he pulled. The door slid open, and he slid out.

To play it safe, he padded halfway down the hall before he morphed back, spitting his phone into his hand and using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the saliva off. He jogged down the remainder of the hall and slipped into the elevator.

It reached the roof floor, and he scampered down the hall, up the stairwell, and into the open air. It was a little chilly, he noted, rolling his shoulders back and giving his head a brisk shake as the ocean breeze washed over him. September was just over half-way gone. October would sneak in soon enough, and with it would come orange and black decorations, treats, tricks, festivals and a crazy-ridiculous amount of pumpkin flavored foods and drinks. He understood why pumpkin got the hype it did but… eh, he’d always been more partial to apple. Cider, crisps, cinnamon and the smallest hints of citrus like orange or lemon. Pumpkin was likable but apple? That hit the spot.

Gar stepped to the edge of the roof, looking out to the city. He inhaled, his hand tightening around his phone before he took a small step back and drew his arm behind him. In one swift arc of his arm, he threw his phone into the air and dove after it. It flew maybe four feet before his talons closed around it, and he soared towards the shore on the wings of a harpy eagle. It was natural gliding on these winds. They were constant enough to slip into a daze, allowing muscle memory to lower him through the current, nearing the beach little by little. He dipped, curved upward and flicked his foot to toss the phone back into the air. His hand closed around it a split second later, and his bare feet hit the sand with a muffled _thmp_! The texture was cool and just damp enough not to feel rough or grainy, and he took a moment to stand and wiggle his toes, burrow his feet into it. It provided a small and probably silly sort of comfort, but he indulged in it all the same. Gar sighed, dragging his fingers through the front tuffs of his hair as he started down the beach and lifted his phone. He clicked back into the texts, backing out of Bette’s thread.

The preview on the thread list didn’t reveal much more. Any more, actually. Not that it needed to. He could go out on a branch, make a guess as to what Rita wanted to talk to him about, and he’d probably be right. There was an itch to click in, a stray and frayed hope that maybe it was about something else. He’d be proven wrong. He wanted to be proved wrong. But he also didn’t want to have his assumptions confirmed. If Rita thought--hoped--he was in bed, he could prolong the answer a little longer… at least until morning. Late morning. It was moments like this he was grateful for his reputation for sleeping in.

There were other text threads, of course. Bette’s was the most recent. Rita, after hers. Then there was Casper; they’d been discussing October plans around dinner time right before she and Bruce headed out for patrol. She was out there now, he imagined, and she rarely brought her personal phone with her when in uniform. She probably had it linked to her gauntlets, anyway. Vic was next on the list but that’d just been because he’d texted to ask what they were low on in the pantry. And next was Wally.

It was kinda late. Past midnight, inching into the witching hours. Wally was taking classes. But they were online classes, right? So it wasn’t like he had to be up early to be on campus or anything. That might even mean he was still up, too, doing homework or something? But if he wasn't, then he'd see anything he received in the morning... after the loneliness had passed... which could lead to an awkward shift in conversation. Gar gnawed on the inside of his cheek, exhaling through his nose. He opened the thread, bringing his other hand to the phone as well.

> [alligartor, 12:54am]: hey. you up?

He tapped his thumb on the send button before he could overthink it. The message drifted into the thread, and a progress bar slid across the top of the screen.

> **Delivered.**

Gar sighed, dropping his arms and eyeing the sand in front of him. The water rolled across its smooth surface, leaving long, bubbling trails of foam in its wake. Every couple steps, he’d spot a crab skitter through the suds or a small group of sandpipers dodging the ocean’s reach. He considered joining them. Even if he’d stand out like a sore thumb, he imagined it’d be a lot of fun once they accepted him. They always looked so dainty, like they were speed-tip-toeing through the sand, and the sight of them dashing away from another slow creeping wave made him chuckle a little.

His phone buzzed, spooking him. There was a mild swell of dread in his stomach, reaching up to grip his throat. Somehow he both wished it was Bette texting to see if he'd fallen asleep on her and also that Wally had replied. He lifted the phone and unlocked the screen.

> [forceofnature, 12:58am]: Hey!! Sorry, yeah, i’m up. What’s up?
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:58am]: Other than you and me and probably half of Gotham
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:58am]: and the other side of the world because you know. Time zones.

Gar smiled, chuckling faintly under his breath. Some of the dread slipped away, replaced by a gentle sense of relief.

> [alligartor, 1:01am]: the moon is definitely up there
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:02am]: i hope so!!! Isn’t one of the Zelda games about that angry moon destroying everything?
> 
> [alligartor, 1:04am]: yeah i just finished that one again. majora’s mask.
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:04am]: someone needs to get the moon a snickers
> 
> [alligartor, 1:06am]: dude thats genius
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:06am]: i know right? Maybe I’m the missing link.
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:07am]: i’d ask you to be the navi to my link but most people try to kill her so
> 
> [alligartor, 1:09am]: pass.
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:10am]: yeah
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:11am]: for real, tho, you okay? Just bored or?

Gar's steps slowed, stopping short of where the water licked the shore. He could feel sprinkles of the fizzling foam speckle his feet and the distinct give of the wetter sand under his weight. So this was the moment of truth, wasn’t it? He could be honest. Or, he could do what he was good at: deflect the concern, let come and go like water on a duck's feathers. He didn't want to bog down others. Who was he to bog down others? ...especially when it all sprouted from his own damn stupidity?

Again, he chewed the inside of his cheek and winced reflexively when his fang dug in a little too far. There wasn’t really a way to play his cards without having to come clean about something. Unless he wanted the conversation to become awkward or one-sided or just die altogether. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes before opening them again and looking out to sea. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the looming Tower. Could see the rocky shores and the faint, misty waves as they crashed across the edges.

_You don’t have to be alone._

He almost thought he’d heard her voice. A faint whisper, tangled in with the rumble of the ocean, the soft wail of seagulls and pelicans. But he knew it was a memory… even if it was a memory that had never really happened.

Gar swallowed. His hands tightened on his phone for a long moment before they relaxed, almost to the point that the device tipped from his palms. He looked back down at the glowing screen. His thumbs shook as they hovered over the keyboard, as they hesitantly tapped out the message.

> [alligartor, 1:15am]: uh couldnt sleep.

Vague enough. Insomnia could be the result of a lot of things. Along with his reputation for being a late riser, he was also known for staying up long hours playing games in the OPs Room or on his own handheld device. A half-truth he could get away with.

> [forceofnature, 1:15am]: oh no! I’m sorry that's no fun :( you want me to call you?

Despite the combined chill of the ocean water at his toes and the air nipping the tips of his ears and nose, he felt a warmth seep through him. Something felt a little swollen in his throat.

> [alligartor, 1:17am]: i dunno. im at the beach right now just kinda walking. restless.
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:17am]: woooould you like company? I can be there in a…
> 
> [alligartor, 1:18am]: second?
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:18am]: i’m blocking your number and filing a complaint.
> 
> [alligartor, 1:19am]: k
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:19am]: first you insult me, then you ‘k’ me. I’ve never been more offended in my life.
> 
> [alligartor, 1:22am]: what about the time rachel said bagels and a piece of bread with a hole in it are basically the same thing?
> 
> [forceofnature, 1:22am]: UM

“She said _WHAT_?!”

Gar sucked in a sharp breath, whirling around. Wally was standing a few feet behind him, phone in hand and the text thread still open and glowing on its screen. His eyes were wide and his expression was an odd mix of horror, objection, and amusement. Gar blinked once. Then, his posture relaxed and he smiled, brows raising as he turned to face Wally in full.

“--Wait, I didn’t tell you about that?!”

“No!!” Wally said, a bark of a laugh escaping with it. “You can’t be serious.”

“Totally serious.”

“... _No_.”

Gar’s smile widened, and he held out his hands to his sides. “Vic was on a rampage one morning. Might’ve been my fault for snagging the last of his blueberry bagels as a midnight snack--”

“--might.”

“That’s what I said: MIGHT. But who knows. Anyway--he was tearing the kitchen apart and complaining and Rachel just--” he dropped his arms to his sides, stiffening his back and dulling his expression the very best he could so it would be as flat as his tone. “Why don’t you get a piece of bread and cut a hole in it? It’s _just_ bread.”

“NOOOO- _HOHOHOHO_ , NOOO, Rachel, **WHY**?!”

Gar’s expression broke as Wally threw his arms up and started laughing, planting his hands on his knees as he doubled over in his own fit of laughter. Wally coughed, scrubbing the area beneath one of his eyes as he paced in a small circle, his other hand clasped around the back of his head.

“Oh no… **oh** , _no_ , that’s so sad.”

“You should’ve seen Vic’s face, dude.”

“I can only imagine. Cripes.”

They snickered, attempting to stifle their laughter despite the lack of people to disturb. Wally cleared his throat, turning a little as he stuffed his phone into his back pocket. “--Jeez Louise--okay. So, uh. It is cool that I popped in, right?” He looked up, brows raising a little. “If you’d rather be--”

“It’s cool,” Gar said quickly, straightening with a grin. He fumbled with his own phone, wedging it into his belt. “This’s great! I just, uh. I wish we were on an Atlantic beach.”

“That’s specific.”

“Not really; it’s a whole coast.”

“--no, I mean…” Wally paused, squinting off to the left before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Nevermind. Why an Atlantic coast, though?”

Gar propped his hands on his hips, shrugging. “Well, the water’s warmer. That’s one thing. But, uh. Main reason’s cuz Atlantic beaches have horseshoe crabs. I like to keep an eye out for'em when I'm wandering around beaches. Little dudes get stuck sometimes.”

“Horseshoe crabs,” Wally repeated, his smile warming. “What’s neat about them?”

“Uh, they’re super cute? They’re like ocean roombas!”

Wally let out a laugh. Gar felt a tiny swell of heat in his face, his own smile growing as he took notice of the dimples in Wally’s cheeks. His freckles even seemed to stand out more under the moonlight. Had they always done that? Or had he only noticed now, for some reason? It was… really endearing.

“ _Ocean roombas_? That’s amazing.” Wally chuckled again, taking a few steps closer. “You know, now, you have to show me some.”

Gar’s smile grew sheepish and lopsided, and he held his hands out by his sides. “I’d love to, dude, but they don’t really hang on Pacific beaches. That’s why I said--”

Wind whistled against his ears. He felt his stomach rise and float--the same sensation received when riding downhill on a tall roller coaster or dropping through the sky. The world tunneled, blurred, then was all at once complete again. Only it wasn’t Jump City’s beach.

Gar blinked, engulfing in a breath through his nose as Wally’s arm drew away from his side. He turned. Once. Twice. And back to Wally, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Wally smiled calmly, both of his brows lifting. “You _do_ know who you’re hanging out with, right?”

“... wait, you’re serious?” Gar asked, turning to look out at the beach again. Something in the smell of the air had changed--not enough so that an average joe might have noticed but, he had. His ears swiveled, and he took a few seconds to take in the new area. The sand was a little darker, the water felt a little warmer as it grazed his toes. Wally laughed from behind him.

“Yeah! Totally serious.”

Gar glanced back at him. He blinked once, then beamed. “--Come on!!” And he took off down the beach.

The air was crisp, salty and its consistent breeze kept his skin cool despite his sprint. Energy swelled in his chest, spreading into his limbs. He was tempted to grow wings and fly. Tempted to form hooves and kick up the sand. But he stayed human, letting that energy go in a breathless laugh as he tore through the licking waves and wet sand. Wally was at his side in an instant, his strides effortless and swift. Gar stole a glance from the corners of his eyes, his grin growing.

“Race ya to that rock!” He shouted.

Wally barked a laugh. “ _What_??”

“You heard me!”

“Dude, I could-- **HEY**!!”

Gar had smirked, letting his body dip forward as he pulled his arms against him. His form changed in less than a blink, clawed toes digging into the sand. He took off, the near-silent dash of a deinonychus giving him a substantial head start. Not that it would last. He didn’t expect it to.

Wally was, again, at his side in an instant. Though his pace had quickened, his arms and legs a mild blur, it still looked absolutely effortless. The redhead flashed him a smug grin, and Gar let out a hiss. They dashed down the beach, the ocean a blur on his left, the small sand dunes, driftwood and long grass a smear on his right. Wally had started laughing at one point, and Gar would have joined him had he had the ability to cackle. And he almost didn’t see it. A small, mud brown shadow, wiggling in the sand.

It took a heartbeat to register. He morphed back.

“--Wally, lo--”

In his momentary alarm, it hadn’t occurred to him that human legs weren’t meant to move at the same speed and stride as a deinonychus. Gar's heel scraped the sand, acting as an anchor and tearing him out of his own velocity. He windmilled his arms as the ground soared towards his face.

Wally’s arms wrapped around his waist, but Gar felt one of his legs snag Wally’s knee or ankle. He heard a yelp. Sand sprayed, tore against his arms and shoulders and neck as they slid and tumbled. He let himself go mostly limp so they rolled without resistance and finally toppled to a stop maybe three seconds later. Gar felt his legs swing up and above him, hanging in the air before his spine straightened and slapped them downwards. He squeaked when one of his knees collided with something hard, and Wally--who had collapsed perpendicular to him--sat up with a jolt.

“--Ow!”

Gar winced, scrunching up his eyes and letting out a thick breath. “Sorry!!”

Wally looked down at him. They stared at each other. Wally’s lips twitched. A muffled snnrkk gurgled in his throat, causing his cheeks to puff out a little. Gar grinned sheepishly, feeling a silly giddiness of his own beginning to tickle his ribs and lungs. Wally attempted to stifle a snicker and snorted instead. They both erupted; stupid, boyish laughter rang through the air. Gar dragged his hands through the sand and up to cover his face, coughing briefly when some of the grains found their way into his mouth. This only made Wally laugh harder, and he leaned back on his palms to keep his sitting position upright.

“D-dude!!” Wally gasped between breaths. “What WAS that??”

“I’m SORRY!!” Gar wheezed. His face was burning. “I-I totally forgot--”

“You **FORGOT**??”

“--I--I--ppff _HAHAH_ \--oh **MAN**!”

“You _FORGOT_ w-we were going--like-- ** _ninety_**?!”

Gar snorted out a cackle, the breath bubbling out of him in uneven waves. He drew a knee back, extending his leg and shoving his foot against Wally’s cheek to push him over. “ _SHUT UP_!”

“My face!!” Wally cried, letting himself drop back. “You’ve sullied my beautiful face!”

“Deal with it.”

Wally snickered, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist and hand. They lay there for a while to catch their breath, a stray snicker or laugh gracing the air here and there. It was… nice. With the salty sand, light breeze, roll of the waves. Even if the latter still stirred an unsettling chill in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to just forget about that dream, already. Shaking it for some stupid reason was tough. He tried to direct his mind elsewhere, allowing his fingers to nudge and press into the sand until he’d created tiny holes beside each of them. His heel began to do the same but immediately stopped. The skin on the underside of his leg all at once made him realize that one of his knees was still draped over Wally somehow. It sent a nervous jolt through his system; he caught himself freezing up--stiffening like a paranoid rabbit. He felt embarrassed, stupid and… What the heck? --Why was he even feeling embarrassed in the first place? Was this weird? _Is he uncomfortable? I should move before I make this awkward. --Are my hands sweating again? Did it get warmer out here? I mean, I was just running, but--_

Wally turned his head to look at Gar. “But seriously--what was that?”

He tensed a little, heat searing his face. “--huh?”

“Your sudden morph-back? What caused that?”

“...--oh!”

Gar sat up, taking advantage of the question to tug his legs back to him as he rolled on his hip. He got back to his feet, turning in place a time or two before he spotted the tiny brown mass of legs a few feet away. “There!!” He pointed, darting forward.

The horseshoe crab wriggled, its thin, spider-like legs kicking helplessly at the air. Gar rounded to its other side, squatting down and resting his forearms on his knees. Wally had jogged up behind him. His eyes widened as he reached the crab, and he slowed to a stop a bit further away than Gar had. “Whoa… _what_ … --wait, is that…?”

“Yeah!” Gar chirped, grinning up at him. “It’s a horseshoe crab, dude!”

“...I thought you said they were _cute_.”

“Wow. Rude.”

Wally laughed with a small air of unease. “It looks like a facehugger, Gar.”

“Yeah! Shaped like a friend!”

“That’s not--”

“--I know.”

“Alrighty, then.”

Gar sighed, rolling his eyes. “They’re totally harmless, Wally. Look!”

He reached down, delicately scooping one hand beneath the crab’s dome. It wriggled its legs, the large, pointed tail flicking in the air. Wally started to reach out but Gar held up a hand, muttering ‘it’s okay!’. He slowly flipped the crab over, his grin softening as he lowered it back onto the sand. The crab kept still for a moment or so before scuffling towards the waves. Gar stood back up, dusting off his hands.

“They don’t have fangs, pincers or stingers,” he said, smiling at Wally. “The tail’s more of a rutter. It gives’em a bad rep, but they’re about as chill as you get. Ocean roombas, remember?”

“Huh.” Wally grinned, propping his palms on his hips. “That’s pretty cool! Alright. Guess using the phrase ‘being crabby’ around them wouldn’t work.”

“Not exactly. They’re more related to spiders and scorpions, anyway.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“ _Huh_!”

Gar’s smile softened, then dropped as he noticed a thin, dark trail coming from the lower area of Wally’s cheek. “--Hey, I think you’re bleeding.”

Wally stiffened a little, then reached up to wipe at his face. The blood smeared across his cheek, and he looked down at his fingertips. “Oh! Must have scraped a rock when we took a tumble earlier. …--hey.” He pointed at Gar, frowning. “You’re bleeding, too. Right over your eyebrow.”

“Oh!” Gar touched the areas above both his brows, cringing a little as a tender spot over his left brow flared up. The combination of sand and salt water on his hands wasn’t doing him any favors. “-- _ah_! Ow. Yeah, whaddya know. I am.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah! I think so.” He took a moment to check his arms and legs, taking note of a couple stray scrapes that were beading a bit of blood. Each of them started to burn on sight--like his brain was only just realizing that his skin had been torn and that was a bad thing--but he didn’t pay them much mind. He looked back up at Wally, frowning. “Are you?”

Wally smiled lopsidedly. “Gar, I’m fine. You know me; I heal just as fast as I do anything else.”

“I know,” Gar said, his frown deepening. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Wally stared back at him, his smile just barely growing. Gar inhaled through his nose, feeling the heat begin to return to his face. Maybe it was a trick of the light--or left over from their dash across the sand--but… he thought Wally’s cheeks may have had a faint, ruddy tint to them.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to get some fresh water and wash those off?” Wally suggested, gesturing at Gar's arms and legs. “So you don’t get infected or anything.”

“Sounds good,” Gar said, chuckling to mask a small quake in his throat. He cleared it, rolling his shoulders as he stepped around Wally, heading down the beach. “Maybe we can help out some more horseshoe crabs while we walk.”

Wally turned on his heel, speeding up long enough to reach Gar’s side and walk with him. “If we see another that’s stranded, you think I could give it a go?”

“Yeah!” Gar turned to look up at him, grinning. “Anyone can. They’re harmless--like I said--may just scratch your hands a bit if their feet touch you.” He shrugged. “Not any worse than a cat scratch. ...speakin’ of which, the one on your face is already gone. Wow.”

“Heh.” Wally swiped at his cheek, smiling almost sheepishly. “Must not have been that deep.”

“Nice,” Gar said, chuckling.

They fell silent for a while. Every several steps, one of them would pause and lean over, attempting to get a better look at something spotted in the thin strips of dissolving waves. From the corners of his eyes, Gar could tell Wally had to squint here and there. Full as the moon may be, Wally couldn’t cheat and make himself a set of eyes that handled lowlight better. Gar could, though. A useful skill to have in his back pocket when walking places like the beach. Never know when a washed-up jellyfish might be just hidden enough below the sand to go unseen to the naked eye.

It was… oddly nice. The silence. Usually, lulls in conversation made him antsy. He’d feel the need to ask questions, make comments on any random object that might be in his sights. Anything to fill the emptiness in the air around them. And if he couldn’t find or think of anything, he’d catch himself fidgeting or needing to scratch the itch to escape the situation. It was dumb. But as they moved up the beach, heading towards the path that would lead to the sidewalk and, eventually, into the city, Gar found that antsiness hadn’t crept into his hands, legs or chest. He felt calm. Relaxed, even. Content.

They didn't find another horseshoe crab on their venture back to civilization. This was both disappointing and also a relief; neat as it'd be to come across another one, the lack of a crab meant it wouldn't be at risk of cooking under the morning sun. It'd be safe beneath the waves, free to nibble the sea floor another day.

Wally lead them down the sidewalk until he pointed out a small diner on the main street just ahead. It looked like a breakfast joint or, at least, a place that was open twenty-four hours a day. Because those two things definitely were the same. They moved inside, waving towards the counter before finding a booth towards the back. Gar’s ear twitched. Even from here, he could hear the whispers that immediately rose upon spotting him. Made sense. The east coast wasn’t one of his usual haunts; they wouldn’t be familiar with the sight of a small, green dude.

Gar slid into one side of the booth, scratching absently at some of the sand clinging to the hairs on his arm. Wally hopped into the seat across from him, and he’d only just set his elbows on the table when a waitress slid up to their table.

“Out, uh, late tonight?” She asked, giving Wally a brief smile before turning her attention to Gar. He grinned sheepishly, shrugging.

“Eh! Couldn’t sleep. I guess.” He glanced at Wally, who chuckled as he opened his palms.

“Mm, always a fun situation,” the waitress said, laughing. It sounded a bit awkward. She seemed aware of that, clearing her throat as she passed them each a menu. “--I’m Emily--I’ll be taking care of you t’night. Can, ah, I get you two anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine!” Wally said. Gar nodded, offering a thumbs up. Emily nodded, taking a step back. Wally quickly held up one hand. “--Oh! Would you bring an extra glass, please?”

“Sure!”

Emily smiled, ducking towards the counter. The other waitress scurried towards her, eyes wide with curiosity as the two began to whisper. Wally folded his arms on the table.

“You know what you’re gonna order?”

Gar looked at him, blinking. “No, I haven’t…--do you?” Wally’s smile turned a little bashful, and Gar snorted. “You already looked at the menu with your speedy eyes, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Dude. You’re the worst.”

“You’re slow!”

“You’re a jerk.”

They chuckled, and Gar pulled the menu a little closer to him. Almost immediately, he huffed, furrowing his brow as he eyed the text. The diner’s font was some kind of cursive--on the headers. The actual menu items, themselves, were listed in a column layout. He squinted a little, trying to focus on the letters. Wally continued talking. The words, both spoken and printed, began to cloud and swirl in his head.

“I think they have some pretty nice vegetarian dishes here,” Wally was saying. “Haven’t been to this place a lot buuuuut, I feel like I’ve seen a nice thing or two.”

The text became a mess of shapes that meant nothing to him. Gar grunted, sitting back. He gave up on the menu, looking up at Wally and grinning as he nudged it away. “Huh! That sounds cool. Maybe I’ll just, uh, tell her I’m a veggie-boy and to surprise me.”

“There ya go!” Wally said, laughing. He glanced over Gar’s shoulder, smiled, and sat back. Emily had arrived with three glasses of water, setting one before each of them and the final in the middle. They both muttered a quick ‘thanks!’ as they pulled their glasses closer. Emily retrieved her notepad.

“You boys know what you want?”

“Uh--yeah!” Wally raised his menu, poking one finger against it. “The classic cheeseburger for me, with everything, please.”

Emily raised a brow along with the tip of her pen. “Including the fried egg?”

“Of course! That's one of the best parts!”

“Cool, cool. What kind of cheese?”

“Uuuh--cheddar’s good!” Wally bounced his shoulders in a shrug, passing her the menu as she reached for it. She tucked it under one arm before glancing at Gar and nodding. Gar sat up a bit more, offering her his menu.

“Surprise me?” He asked, managing to keep hints of embarrassment out of his voice. “--uh, I’m vegetarian, but I’m not picky!”

“Oh!” Emily took the menu, nodding before quickly scribbling on her notepad. “Okay, cool! … huh, I never knew. Guess it makes sense, though. Alrighty! Shouldn’t take long; I’ll be back in a bit!”

She headed off, Wally raising his hand in a small wave after her. He turned back to Gar, reaching a hand across the table as he grabbed some napkins with the other. “Here.”

Gar blinked, hesitating a moment before he realized what the gesture meant. He grabbed some napkins as well, letting Wally take his left wrist as he poked the napkins into the extra water glass. “Heh! Hope I don’t leave too much sand all over the seat. This stuff’s like glitter. You can never get rid of it.”

“That’s an accurate comparison,” Wally said, laughing. He wetted his napkin as well before gently starting to wipe the sand away from the couple cuts scattered across Gar’s arm. “Jeez. I know the blood makes it look worse than it is, but you got pretty torn up.”

“Eh! Beaches, y’know.” Gar shrugged, chuckling as he wiped at his neck. “There’s usually little things in the sand--pebbles, broken shells and stuff. Garbage. It’s not a big deal.”

“Still,” Wally said, glancing up at him before looking back down. “Can’t feel all that great.”

“I’ve had a lot worse but, uh.” He lowered his voice a little. “Haven’t most’ve us.”

Wally snorted, dabbing at one of the cuts. It stung, but Gar didn’t flinch. He turned a little, leaning down to wipe at his legs where grains of sand had snagged themselves in the hair. His knee had taken a decent amount of scraping but it wasn’t the first time it had. Not by a long shot. His eye twitched a time or two as the sand and water caused the couple open cuts to flare up.

“So how’s Ellie?” Wally asked, glancing up briefly as he turned Gar’s arm over. “Still healthy? Eating?”

“Oh yeah,” Gar said. He smirked, chuckling. “I, uh. Was kinda worried those first two days, but. She’s been great. Hasn’t skipped a meal. She talks to me a lot.”

“That’s cute.”

“It is until she gets sassy.”

“Ravens can get sassy?”

“Dude, you have _no_ idea. And it gets worse.”

Wally laughed, looking up at him. “That’s amazing.”

“Heh! Yeah, I know. They’re weird birds. Too smart for their own good ‘n all.”

They chuckled and Wally let his left wrist go. Gar traded hands with the napkins, hiking his other leg up so his heel rested on the booth cushion. He began to scrub away at the sand and cuts again. “--but, uh, yeah! She’s good.”

“How long do birds stay nested and all?” Wally asked, gently working a new wet napkin along his arm. Gar shrugged.

“Kinda depends on the bird. --like species. --And also the bird, but, uh, species, too.” He shifted his knee to the side, craning his head to eye the other side of his leg. “Ellie… um. It’s, uh. Kinda hard to tell ‘cause I dunno how… old she really is. But. I think she’ll fledge in mid or late October? Maybe?”

“Fffffledge?” Wally peeked up at him before looking back down at his arm.

Gar nodded. “Yeah! It’s when birds get their flying feathers, basically. I think Kori and I might have to help her figure the whole flying thing out but, uh, ravens are clever and stuff. I’m sure she’ll take one look at us and wonder what a bunch of doofuses are doing teaching her something that comes naturally to her, haha!”

He looked up, still laughing a little to himself.

Wally wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t smiling either. He was staring intently down at the skin on Gar’s arm, where the water and light brush of the napkin had cleared the sand and flecks of blood away, brushed the hair aside. The scar from the monkey bite was visible. And so were the teeny tiny, circular marks that freckled the tissue around and above it.

Gar’s throat tightened. He yanked his arm back to him, shoving it and his hand under the table and planting his palm firmly on his knee. Wally leaned back, his eyes wide as he and Gar stared at each other. Gar pressed his lips together, swallowing the dry sensation now spreading from his mouth to his throat. It wasn’t until he noticed how Wally was looking at him that he realized his ears had flattened, lowered against the sides of his head. He quickly righted them and cleared his throat, looking down at the table.

Silent seconds passed.

“... I’m…--I’m sorry, Gar, I didn’t mean to--” Wally started to say, but Gar shook his head.

“--It’s okay. I… I’m sorry, I, uh. I… I dunno.”

Again, they fell silent. He could hear Wally bouncing his leg, his heel tapping almost soundlessly on the floor. A set of footprints caught his ear, and he swiveled it as he glanced up. Emily returned to the table, smiling as she slid one basket to Wally. “Got a cheeseburger! Aaaand for our veggie-eater--” she slid another basket to Gar “--buffalo cauliflower bites!”

Gar nodded, tugging the basket a little closer to him. He could see Emily glancing at them from the corner of his eyes, her expression gradually beginning to sink as she became aware of the shift in mood.

“Um… --can… --can I get you anything else?” She asked quickly, clasping her hands. Wally recovered first, flashing her a soft smile and shaking his head as he raised one hand.

“Nope!” He said, voice chipper. “I think we’re good to go for now. Thank you, Emily!”

Emily nodded, maintaining her somewhat uneasy smile, and stepped away from their table. Wally lowered his hand and turned back to Gar. He opened his mouth, paused, then shifted his weight on the booth so his elbows and clasped hands rested on the table beside his basket. Gar watched in his peripheral vision as Wally tilted his head in an attempt to make eye contact.

“...hey,” Wally said gently. When Gar didn’t look up, he continued, “I’m… I’m sorry, Gar. I shouldn’t have done that. --Stared, I mean. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

Gar opened his mouth. He didn’t speak for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging. “I-it’s okay, Wally. Really. --It’s not even a big deal, I dunno why I… um.” Again, he shrugged. Wally frowned. Gar could see him gnawing on the corner of his lip. He shifted his weight, leaning a little closer to Gar.

“Have, um. Have you been okay?”

“Huh?” Gar looked up, his ears raising. “... yeah, ‘f course.”

“Yeah?” Wally studied him a little. He hesitated, eyeing him. “...I…--I guess--”

They both jumped as Gar’s communicator went off. The series of beeps seemed louder than usual, and Gar scrambled to fumble the device out of his back pocket. He muttered a reflexive apology for the interruption, flipping the screen open with a swipe of his thumb. “--BB, here.”

“Where ARE you?” Cyborg asked. He turned back to the screen as he spoke. Gar could tell he was using the panel on his arm based on the way the smaller communicator screen had to condense the image. Cyborg looked… angry. Or, at least, on the verge of it. It stirred something cold in Gar’s stomach. He felt the communicator’s ridges burrow into his fingers.

“--Uh. Um. --The… the East coast,” he said, briefly looking up at Wally--who was now sitting straight and alert--before bringing his eyes back to the screen. “But I can be back in a jiffy--what’s up?”

Cyborg squinted, probably questioning why and how Gar got to the other side of the country, before shaking his head. His tone grew low. “It’s Kardiak.”

“--It…” That cold feeling spread from his stomach to his chest, rapidly beginning to branch through his veins. “Did it take someone?!”

Gar was already shoving himself out of the booth as Cyborg answered. Wally fished his wallet out of his pocket as he quickly followed, thumbing through some bills.

“No,” Cyborg answered. He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “The kid was lucky. She managed to get outta its grasp and make enough noise for her older sister to investigate. She beat it off with a bat ‘til her dad showed up.”

“Are they all alright?”

“Yeah. But Kardiak vanished. That’s part’a why we could use your help.”

Gar nodded. He shouldered out of the diner just as Wally jogged up behind him. “I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Thanks,” Cyborg said. “We’ll keep checkin’ the area, talking to the police. It’s 3442 Coldwater. Gotta go.”

The screen cut off. Gar pocketed the communicator, turning to Wally. “You get that?”

“Sure did,” Wally said. He nodded, gesturing down the sidewalk.

They walked silently until they reached the first visible alley. Then, they ducked into it. Wally scooped an arm around Gar’s side, and the alley walls, the shadows, smudged and blurred. Gar felt a split second of warm air rush over him--a blend of smells he barely had time to identify--, and he stumbled forward. He’d only blinked once before the walls of Wally’s apartment joined the smear of colors and shapes. Then, he was standing beside Flash just outside a small neighborhood. Dogs were barking somewhere nearby; he could see bright reds and vibrant blues flashing just yards ahead and around the corner. Police vehicles.

Gar waved at Flash, and they darted down the sidewalk, across the lawns. They’d just rounded the JCPD cars when Jinx stepped out of the surrounded house. She dodged between several of the officers, glowering at one or two who sent her a wary glance before she spotted them.

“Running late as usual,” she said, her eyes glinting as she stomped forwards. Flash frowned as he slowed to a stop, holding his arms out at his sides.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Spooked,” Jinx muttered. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, planting her hands on her hips as she eyed the upper windows. Gar followed her gaze, sucking a thin breath through his teeth as he spotted the damage.

The far right window on the second floor was… for lack of a better word: gone. The glass had been completely shattered from the frame. What little remained of the screen was frayed and split. The frame, itself, had been dented outward in multiple places. Torn curtains fluttered in the light breeze, adding to the already eerie and unsettling atmosphere.

“Jeez,” Flash breathed. Gar broke from his side, side-stepping an officer as he rushed into the house. His ears swiveled as he took in the wave of voices, camera flashes, footfalls and faint sobbing from the upper floors. He put them aside and shifted into a sparrow, flying up the stairwell. His form morphed back as he reached the top, and it didn’t take long to track the voices coming from down the hall.

Gar moved towards an open door on the left side of the hall. It was next door to the room he guessed the damaged window was in, as that room’s door had visible signs it’d been flung open or bashed against the wall at some point. As he blinked--allowing his pupils to change and widen, gathering available light to his senses--he could see a small dent in the wall behind the doorknob. Scrapes in the wood on the frame, on the floorboards. A splintered bat barely in view from where it lay abandoned within the room. He looked away from it, rounding through the door just before it.

Starfire looked up first. She was sitting on a medium bed with pale green sheets, holding the hand of a weeping child who clung to an older girl Gar assumed was the sister who’d come to her rescue. The sibling was visibly shaken, her fingers tight enough around the little girl’s shoulder that her freckled skin had whitened despite developing bruises. If it hurt the child, she didn’t show any signs or try to pull away; she only clung tighter to her protector.

“Garfield,” Starfire said quietly. She looked at the older sister, nodding her head. “This is my friend. He is here to help.”

“Hey,” Gar said, raising a hand a little as he approached. He kept his voice just above a murmur. “Are you guys okay?”

The older sister nodded. She sniffed sharply but held her chin a little higher. Gar stopped as he reached them, lowering into a squat, so he was below the younger girl’s eye level and tilted his head to try finding her gaze. “Hi, lil’ dude. I’m Garfield--like the silly orange cat from the cartoons? You might know me better as ‘Beast Boy,’ though. What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer. Her older sister cleared her throat. “Neyla,” she answered. “Th-this is Neyla. I’m, um. Andrea.”

“Cool,” Gar said, offering a small smile as he nodded at her. He looked back to Neyla. “You’re super brave, y’know that, Neyla? I’m real proud of you for fighting that bully off. --Both of you.”

Andrea smiled weakly, ducking her head as Starfire nodded.

“Yes,” she added. “It must have been frightening. You both showed magnificent courage, and now you are safe.”

Neyla peeled her face away from the safety of her sister, finally meeting Gar’s gaze. He gave his ears a small up and down wiggle, allowing his smile to warm and widen. Her short, but thick, brows furrowed, as though she was trying to decide whether she should find this entertaining or not. The change in expression was a good enough sign, though.

“Starfire taking good care of you guys?” Gar asked. Neyla blinked at him, and Andrea nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered. “She’s very kind.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty awesome. One time I watched this really scary movie--like, _totally_ scary--and I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking the ghoul-dude was gonna come outta my closet, y’know? But Star let me crash in her room for a little while. We kinda had a sleepover.”

This seemed to spark an interest in Neyla, and she rotated just a bit more to better face him. Andrea’s guarded expression softened. She ducked her head closer to Neyla’s, nudging her forehead with her own. “You see?” She muttered softly. “It’s okay. They get scared, too. Even of silly monsters.”

Of course, the three of them knew Kardiak was hardly ‘silly.’ Maybe Andrea hoped treating the situation with some amount of lightness would aid in calming Neyla. She had to understand her sister better than any of them, after all. Neyla sniffed, uncertainty still evident on her face.

Gar glanced at Starfire, his ears lowering a little. She frowned, nodded once, then looked back to Neyla. Gar saw her give the girl’s hand a gentle squeeze as she began to speak. “Neyla. Would it be alright for Garfield to change into a small bear and smell you? It is possible that traces of Kardiak’s scent may still be on your clothes or arms. He might be able to find where Kardiak has gone into hiding, so we may find it and stop it before it has the chance to harm another child like you.”

Neyla stiffened, shooting Gar a wide-eyed look. His throat tightened, and he felt several of his muscles tense in reflex, but managed to remain relaxed on the surface, his expression still calm and soft. His hands began to shiver in the space between his knees.

“It’s alright, Neyla,” Andrea said. She pulled her hand from the girl’s shoulder, gingerly beginning to comb her fingers through her thick, dark mess of curls. “He’s nice. He won’t hurt you. You like bears, remember? Bear in the Big Blue House? You love that show. It’ll be like that.”

Seconds passed before Neyla nodded, though the gesture was clearly hesitant. Gar nodded back to her, shifting his weight, so he placed his palms on the ground and let his feet slide a few more inches under and behind him. In a blink, he morphed from human to that of a smaller black bear. A rush of odors filled his sensitive nostrils, but he forced himself to remain still and nonreactive. Neyla gasped, flinching in Andrea’s arms, but her sister held her close and bowed her head, whispering words of encouragement. Gar waited until Andrea looked up at him and gave him a nod before taking one step closer and smelling the air around Neyla’s arms and legs. Sure enough, he picked up on the thick scent of oils. Something sour, metallic. Something else so pungent that it even dusted his tongue. He resisted the urge to snort.

After a minute, he stepped back again and gave his head a shake. As he did, he morphed and straightened his spine, rolling his shoulders behind him. “I got it,” he muttered, nodding to Starfire. “I, uh, should probably check out her room, too. See if I can find something stronger--or, y’know, that matches it. Get a trail going.”

“Of course,” Starfire said. She looked to Neyla, her smile gentle and warm. “Thank you, Neyla. You have been _so_ brave tonight. It is an honor to have met you.”

As he exited the room, Gar thought he saw the little girl smile.

The neighboring room looked like a tornado had conjured in its center, strewing its insides about with little rhyme or reason. Gar’s steps slowed momentarily as he entered, inhaling through his nose as he eyed the scattered books, stuffed animals, sheets and shattered glass left from the window. A draft snaked across the floor, prickling his bare feet and ankles with goosebumps. It was… spooky, to say the least. The thought of what could have unfolded, but miraculously hadn’t, only worsened that feeling. The room could be repaired. Items, replaced. But had Kardiak succeeded in whatever twisted mission it was on, the space might have been permanently hollowed.

He flexed his fingers at his sides as he surveyed the damage. Now that he was closer, he could see the window frame wasn’t only dented but that most--if not all--of its paint had been scraped clean off. There were marks all around the window, from the broken sill to the walls and floors. A couple drawings, once taped or pinned to the walls, had either been scattered or torn beyond recognition. The way the sheets had been pulled to the end of the bed and lay half draped across the floor indicated Neyla must have still been in bed when Kardiak broke in. Sure, it was late, so being in bed made sense. But this might mean she hadn’t heard it coming.

Kardiak didn’t get its name from appearances alone; it was also notorious for emitting the uncomfortably accurate thrum of a human heart. The noise served as a warning as much as it did a method of flushing potential prey into the open, whether they were fleeing the sound or venturing closer to investigate. For a machine, it sure operated like a predatory animal.

Gar swiveled his ears in slow, searching circles. His gaze continued to scan the room as he took three more steady steps inside. He began to recall things he’d learned working with Casper. With Bruce. With… Eddie and Bates. Signs of struggle. Methods, thought process if there had been any at all.

The splintered bat near the dresser; where the wood had broke, it was also bent inwards. Maybe it had cracked by being squeezed. Kardiak could have torn it from Andrea’s hands when she attempted to beat it, breaking the weapon in its grasp. He ducked closer to the ground and shifted into a rat, searching for pieces of the machine that might have been knocked loose during the fight. He poked under scraps of drawings, wove under the splayed sheets and sniffed down the length of the space beneath the window sill. He had just reached a desk in the corner of the room when sharp, heavy vibrations began to rattle through the floorboards beneath his paws. He knew the weight and pace of the source: Cyborg must be on his way down the hall.

A glint of light caught his eye, and Gar shifted back to reach beneath the desk. He pulled out what appeared to be a chipped piece of glass, but the texture wasn’t quite right. It felt like glass--smooth to the rough, sharp on the points--but it gave when he pressed his thumb against it and bent it back. It had a darkish red tint, and he could sort of see through it. He frowned. His left ear twitched, rising sharply at the sound of a light knocking on the door frame.

“Yo,” Cyborg said, his voice low and quiet. “Anything?”

Gar held up the piece of material. “This.” He grunted as he pushed to his feet, turning it over again in his fingers before lifting it to his face and sniffing it. His brows furrowed. Sure enough, it had a sour and burning scent. Not quite gasoline but… something he would expect to be exposed to while in a car garage. He couldn’t remember a time he’d smelt it while in the garage with Cyborg, though. Either way, his lips curled in reflex, and he pulled the piece from his nose, snorting the scent out of his nostrils as he tossed the chip to Vic. “It reeks. But it definitely came off Kardiak.”

“Huh,” Cyborg said, easily catching it. He opened his palm, so the piece lay in its center; his cybernetic eye lit up, casting a grid-like beam over the ‘glass.’ “She knocked this off with a bat? That’s impressive. ...wonder if it was already loose. Kardiak’s built solid. And it did get an upgrade back when the Brotherhood was active.”

“Whoever thought that was a good idea needs a hefty knuckle sandwich,” Gar muttered, eyeing the room’s floor again. He set his jaw as his gaze settled on large scratch marks across the floor where Kardiak’s tendrils must have scraped it during their attempt to ensnare Neyla. He swallowed, attempting to wet his dry throat. “Last time it hunted around parks and apartments in the city. These are the suburbs. I thought it was drawn to more populated areas and stuff.”

“Me, too.” Cyborg’s frown deepened as he looked up. His red eye flickered once before dimming. “But. Like I said: it got an upgrade about three years ago. Always a chance that could’a changed something in how it operates… ‘thinks.’ Everything about its original purpose is still unknown as far as we can figure, so. Who knows what it thinks it needs to do right now.”

Gar sighed, planting his hands on his hips and scowling. “Awesome.”

“Look,” Cyborg said, lowering his chin. “Obviously, we gotta track it down before it shows up again. Chances are, the next kid won’t be as lucky to have a kickass sister or someone else who can get to them in time.”

“How’s everyone else?”

“Mr. Castaneda’s… tense. But what else do ya expect? He’s fine, though. I already did a thorough scan of this room, gonna run it through some tests once we get back to the Tower. Neyla and Andrea seem to be cooling down. Star's been with'm since we got here. Don’t know if any of them will sleep the rest of the night, but, uh. I’m gonna come back in the morning and help with some security detail.”

Gar looked up at him, frowning. “Do you want any help? Your classes, like, just started again, dude. And you always have a ton of homework right away.”

“Nah.” Cyborg shook his head, holding up one hand. “I’d rather you, Star and Raven spend the day trying to track Kardiak down if you don’t find it tonight. Security’s good and all, but it’d be better if we totally prevent another attack from being even a possibility. Y’know?”

“... What about Jinx?”

“She, uh. ...well, she already agreed to help out with--”

“Oh.”

“--you, Star and Raven cover more ground faster,” Cyborg interrupted. Gar stiffened as his ribs seemed to squeeze some of the air from his lungs. “You and Star can fly. Raven teleports. Jinx and I just got our legs. She also… knows a lot about security loopholes thanks to _before_. We’ll be more efficient if we stick to the suburb limits and check to make sure police will be notified of any break-ins. I might even route an alarm to my personal systems.”

Gar blinked at him, his shoulders slowly sinking back into place. “Um. Okay, dude. Whatever.” He shrugged. The bite from Cyborg’s tone still gripped his chest. He dropped his hands, gesturing vaguely at the door. “--Maybe we could ask Flash to help, too. He can cover a lotta ground faster than any of us. Not to mention pass through walls if he needs to. --He’s also great with kids, so, uh, if any of them get spooked, he’d be cool.”

Cyborg’s brow rose a bit. He hesitated, glancing back at the door before facing Gar again. “You sure that wouldn’t be askin’ too much? He’s got his own city to watch out for--and, hey, he just started classes up, himself.”

“The guy reads, like, a billion words a minute,” Gar said. “He actually had to pace himself back in high school so no one would get suspicious of him turning stuff in so fast.” There weren’t sentences capable of explaining how immensely envious he was of that. Since he'd learned about 'speed reading,' he’d catch himself dwelling on it as he fumbled his way through textbook pages, struggling to focus on letter placement and making sense of the print. Hours wasted on information he wouldn't retain. “I don’t wanna stress him out, either, but… if he can help, we could use it. Especially if Kardiak’s behavior is changing. Changed.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Cyborg nodded, looking down at his feet. He frowned at the marks on the floor before nodding one more time, turning towards the room door. “You mind askin' for me? I gotta check in with Rhonda one last time before she and the squad head out.”

“You got it.”

Gar twisted on his heel, lifting his arms as he let his weight fall forward. He morphed into a grackle and flew out the hole of a window, soaring and rounding towards the yard. It was empty, but he spotted the group he was looking for a small ways up the street. Flash, Raven and Jinx were lingering around a storm drain, Flash knelt at its side and Raven hovering shortly behind him. The first time they'd dealt with Kardiak, it had wound up in pieces and put itself back together in the sewers. Made sense to give those escape routes a glance over in case the machine was attempting to use them as cover again. Gar flew to the group, shifting back and jogging the last couple paces to Jinx’s side.

“Anything?” He asked, slowing to a stop. Flash frowned, looking up and shaking his head.

“It’s weird. I ran up and down the block but haven’t found any other evidence that Kardiak was even here. You’d think a giant, anatomically correct heart machine that _flies_ would be easier to find. Or, at least, leave a trail.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s going to try mimicking Pennywise,” Jinx said, slanting her gaze to squint at the storm drain. She tightened her voice, letting it grow a little scratchy. “ _Hiya, Georgie_.”

Flash sent her a glance, and she looked away.

“It… _is_ an apt comparison, in certain lights,” Raven muttered. “They both go after kids. They’re both scary. They both shouldn’t be able to hide in plain sight. And yet..”

Gar saw a hint of a smirk twitch the corners of Jinx’s lips. He huffed, letting his ears fall flat against his head as he slanted his gaze at Raven. “Making us feel better? Raven, you’re fired.”

“I was never hired,” she replied, tone dull.

“We still need to search around--including the city,” Gar continued. He pressed his lips together before looking to each of them one by one. “I've got a lock on Kardiak's scent. Raven and I will look around here, since we’re both good at, uh, picking up on… energies and, uh. Smells and stuff.”

“Articulate,” Jinx muttered. Gar ignored her.

“Flash, you and Jinx head to the far side of town. You’ll get there faster.”

“And bring the search gradually closer to the last sighting point?” Flash asked, pushing to stand upright. Gar nodded. Raven turned, gliding in the direction of the Castaneda home. Jinx started to shift her weight and step towards Flash’s side, but Gar quickly stepped forward and held up a hand.

“--And, um. Is, uh, is there any chance you could help out tomorrow, too?” He asked. “We might have to widen our search--and an extra set of eyes is always awesome.”

Flash blinked, then he smiled. “Yeah, of course! Just give me a call once you need me in town. If I’ve gone back to Central by the time you guys start your second search, that is.”

“Sure!” Gar chirped. They gave each other a thumbs up.

Jinx stepped around Gar, lifting her chin as she crossed one ankle over the other and rested a forearm on Flash’s shoulder, so half her weight sank into him. She planted her other hand on her hip, a brow arching.

“Hope you saps have a full pantry,” she said. “All that running around? You’ll have a _hungry boy_ on your hands.”

Flash smirked, winking at Gar, and the two of them vanished in an instance.

Gar let his body sway into the breeze left in Flash’s wake, the ends of his hair tickling his ears and a few stray bits of grass and leaves scratching his calves and ankles. He stared at the empty space in front of him for a second or two longer before his gaze dropped to the storm drain beside him. The over-imaginative side of his brain effortlessly conjured the ‘image’ of a smiling clown beneath the sidewalk’s veil. Smudged crimson around his mouth made it impossible to tell if his lips were stained with paint or blood.

Gar shuddered, shuffling a couple steps away from the storm drain before starting towards where Raven was circling the Castaneda home. _It is an apt comparison_ , Raven’s voice echoed in his head. _They go after kids. They’re scary. They seem able to hide in plain sight._

He pressed his lips together, unable to stop the stray thought before it surfaced, prickling his skin.

_...And Halloween’s barely a month away._


	11. First Fall

Their search turned up nothing. They were all disappointed but, somehow, not surprised. Kardiak had a decent head-start on them, after all.

By the time they retired to the Tower, Gar’s feet felt heavy as cinderblocks, and his arms ached from flying and running on all fours. The tumble he'd taken on the beach earlier that evening most likely added into his physical discomfort. He shambled back to his room, didn’t bother undressing, and dragged himself up the ladder and into his bed, wasting no time in cocooning himself in his sheets.

Ellie allowed him to doze maybe 5 minutes before she began screaming for breakfast.

They searched again that afternoon. Again that evening. But Kardiak seemed to have disappeared from the city, despite Rachel insisting that it wouldn’t have left. Wherever it was, it was well hidden. The day came and went. It was two days after the attack. They somehow had no leads, no trail. But at least Vic and Ajaya had walked the neighborhood and started checking the next one over. Security systems were being tested and even updated. Their options of action dwindled until they finally decided all they could really do was wait. None of them liked this.

Each grew antsy in their own ways. Rachel withdrew to her room or the roof of the Tower, often in a deep state of meditation and reluctant to speak. Vic busied himself between his own homework and monitoring activity in the city. Gar tried to ask how it worked but it all sounded like a foreign language; best he could manage was Vic was scoping a substantial perimeter of the city for a variety of signals. He was in and out of the Tower throughout those two days, frequently in contact with Commissioner Elliot or muttering under his breath about some kind of assignment. Ajaya, surprisingly, opted to sleep at the Tower. Gar would spot her lingering either in or nearby Vic's current location. She gave off strong 'don't talk to me' vibes, so he left her be. Kori grew restless. She worked in her garden, cooked all sorts of practically inedible food and carried Silkie with her just about everywhere. Gar would often follow her around, Ellie and her towel-nest tucked under his arm, attempting to make conversation. Silkie would eye Ellie with a curious wariness, and Ellie would watch him with an equal amount. Gar wondered what the odds were that a raven and a mutant larva would get along.

In the late afternoon, Gar got a call that his film had finished developing. The news came as a wave of relief--as this could work as yet another form of distraction--and… it also came with excitement. One drawback came with receiving the call, however. As he opened his messaging app to shoot Wally a text and tell him about the film, he spotted the text from Rita sent three nights ago. He hadn’t had the chance to open it--much less to call her--with everything going on surrounding Kardiak. He bit his lip as he stared at it, thumbs hovering in the spaces between it and Wally’s thread box. After a few seconds, he clicked into Wally’s.

> [alligartor, 5:25pm]: hey!! :D the films done! wanna meet me to pick up?
> 
> [forceofnature, 5:26pm]: YES??? need a lift there?
> 
> [alligartor, 5:28pm]: nah! think the walk would be nice. but can you wait that long?
> 
> [forceofnature, 5:28pm]: for you and some awesome pics? think i can manage >;)
> 
> [alligartor, 5:30pm]: great. ill walk in slow motion
> 
> [forceofnature, 5:30pm]: garfield logan do not even. you know you're killing me. you're killing your friend.
> 
> [alligartor, 5:31pm]: thenperish.jpg
> 
> [forceofnature, 5:31pm]: WOW

He locked the phone, shoving it into his backpack pocket. Ellie tilted her head from her spot on the bottom bunk. She watched as he moved around the room, collecting a couple fresh towels, some snacks from a drawer in his dresser and a hoodie. Once all these items were stowed away along with food and the cleaned turkey baster for her, he gingerly scooped up her nest and placed her inside. She wiggled, adjusting her footing, and gave her wings a flick. Gar chuckled and carefully slid the zipper until it was almost shut. “Hang in there, silly bird. We’re gonna go on an adventure.”

Ellie trilled.

Gar wove the backpack straps over his shoulders and left his room. His path to the roof went uninterrupted; the elevator was empty and the next corridor silent. This came with a bit of relief, but… it also came with a tiny bit of disappointment. He’d kind of been hoping he’d run into Kori on his way up here--tell her that the pictures were ready to go and see the excitement glow through her features. Or, maybe, he’d see Rachel meditating on the roof and at least be able to tell her about the film. He doubted she’d find the news all that exciting, even if her in-progress tattoo would be featured among the other subjects. But it was someone else to tell.

The roof was empty. Again, this served both as a strange relief and a disappointment. Gar shrugged the thoughts off, taking to a brisk jog to the edge of the roof and pushing into the air. His membrane-lined wings spread, and his small pterodactyl form rode the ocean wind towards the mainland.

_I know it’s late and hopefully you’re asleep…_

Crap... He was afraid this would happen. Right after he saw the message--was reminded that it was sitting there, on his phone, unopened and unanswered--he knew it would weigh on his mind until he did something about it. That didn’t mean he had to answer it, necessarily. He could always delete it. Feign a connection failure--tell Rita he’d never received it in the first place. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d used that white lie on her. Of course, the last several times he’d utilized that lie, it was because he’d run away. He hadn’t wanted to be found. Well, he had. Just... He hadn’t wanted to be found the way he eventually was. He’d wanted them to find him on their own and because they wanted him to come home. They’d had plenty of resources--a ridiculous amount after Jump City News started covering the Titans’ activity. But… they never came.

It hadn’t been until that drone broke into their Tower, alerting him to the danger his family had fallen into, that they reunited. Because he’d chosen to go. Because, of course he had. They hadn’t. It’d been over two years.

Maybe seeing him on the news had been enough. Visual confirmation that he was alive had a roof over his head and seemed in good health. Maybe, had he stopped appearing alongside the Titans, they would have come looking for him. Guess he’d never know.

Gar swooped downward, evening out and morphing back, so his shoes hit the sand. He heard Ellie squawk from within his backpack, and he gave its side a couple gentle nudges with his elbow. “S’okay, Ellie,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he started up the beach. “You’ll get used to it. …’course, you’ll also be tryin’ out your own wings soon! You won’t need to hitch a ride.”

Again, she squawked, a little softer this time. He smiled to himself, hopping up the small set of stairs leading from the beach to the sidewalk.

He could lie. Could probably get away with it for a week, maybe two, depending on the state of things back in Michigan. Could use that buffer to get a better handle on what he wanted to say--predict what she was going to say. But there always seemed to be some sort of curveball no matter how well he thought he had braced himself. Lying also meant she might start to worry he hadn't replied. She didn’t deserve that. She’d worried enough over the years. Hadn’t she? ...she had been worried when he ran away all those years ago, hadn't she?

Gar chewed on his upper lip, his eyes locked on the sidewalk in front of him. His ears twitched, swiveled, acting the part of navigators as his focus drifted between his thoughts and the paths of those walking around him. Citizens out and about--enjoying the more cooling air that September had to offer, heading to reservations at restaurants, window shopping or just basking in the energy of the oncoming evening. His reflexes were sharp and careful enough to keep him from bumping into anyone on their way by, and just aware enough to realize when herds of people had paused at a crossing so he wouldn’t wander blindly into the open street.

He’d been walking for maybe ten minutes before the weight in his backpack’s pocket became unbearable, and he stopped where he stood. Gar hung his head back, audibly sighing to himself with little concern to what attention the display would bring. He turned, ducking down an alley, and shouldered the pack from his back.

Ellie warbled as he dug his phone from the pocket, and he unzipped the top just enough so she’d be able to see him. She tilted her head, her eyes just barely glinting in what light leaked into the backpack. He smiled at her and poked the tip of his finger against her beak. She responded with an affectionate nibble.

With a low sigh, Gar dragged the backpack closer to the alley wall. He thumbed his passcode into the phone, finding his way into the messages and into Rita’s before he could think to turn back.

> [mom, 12:36am]: Garfield. I know it’s late and hopefully you’re asleep. I also hope you’ve settled back into your life at the Tower and that your friends are well. Please call me when you get the chance. Rita.

She always ‘signed’ her texts despite her contact information would make it obvious. An old habit of sorts, he guessed. When he was younger, she used to sign it ‘Mom.’ Somewhere down the line, she’d started using her name. It’d stung, the first time he’d seen it… but… it also hadn’t been all that surprising. He’d run away, after all. And from a teammate standpoint, her name was more… professional. As she might say. He wasn't a twelve-year-old kid anymore.

Gar exhaled slowly through his nose, staring at the message a few seconds longer before forcing himself to click on her contact, then on the tiny bubble that would call her. The screen darkened, and he could hear the ringtone before he lifted it to his ear. He could feel his fingers shaking a little--a clamminess in his palms--, and he gripped the phone a little tighter in attempt to mask it. There wasn’t anyone in the alley to hide it from.

“Don’t pick up,” he whispered, beginning to pace as the phone rang for the third time. “Don’t pick u--”

“--Garfield?”

He froze, inhaling through his nose. For a moment, his lips and jaw moved mutely. Then he found his voice.

“--Hi, Rita!” An advantage of being on the phone meant she couldn’t see his face, and he was well-practiced in disguising his voice to be as chipper as it needed to be.

“Garfield! H--”

“--Sorry I took so long to call,” he blurted, turning on his heel and digging the toe of one of his shoes into a stray piece of cardboard. “Kardiak showed back up on our radar, and we’ve been tryin’ to hunt it back down. I, uh, got distracted--almost forgot you’d texted. Sorry.”

“That’s alright!” She sounded equally chipper. Maybe a little cautious. The elephant in the room was clearly breathing on both of their necks. “Are you okay?”

Gar nodded, absently walking towards his backpack again. “Yeah! We’re all good. Just, uh, worried about the kids, y’know? Kardiak’s a real creep.” He swiped the back of his fingers against his nose, then scratched at the side of his neck. “It got some kinda upgrade back when the Brotherhood was active, too, so. We gotta, uh… I dunno--figure out all that tech stuff. Vic’s on it. Shouldn’t take him long.”

“I’m sure.”

A pause.

“--So--” he shattered the silence, the jitters scuttling through his bones and muscles on the verge of driving him to just start climbing up the alley wall like a lizard or spider. “Are you guys okay?”

A smaller pause; he imagined she was nodding. “Mmhm. We’re all well, here. Cliff and Larry have a bit of a rivalry going on regarding their card towers. The ones that fell over back in July?”

“Oh! Yeah, those. I remember.” Of course he did. ... _he’d_ knocked them down. They didn't know that. “Who’s winning now?”

Rita sighed, the breath ending with a weak chuckle. “Larry. Cliff still maintains that his fingers aren’t delicate enough for this kind of challenge, but he’s too stubborn to admit defeat.”

He needed to laugh--and do it as sincerely as possible. Rita may not be able to see his face, but she knew a fake laugh when she heard one. Gar ran through recent memories, searching for one that would draw out something at least halfway honest. His mind almost immediately settled on three nights ago, when he’d mistakenly turned from raptor to human mid-stride, sending both himself and Wally into a wild crash through the sand. Their own ridiculous and stupid laughter. The broad smile on Wally’s face and the warmth in his voice. The bright blue of his eyes...

Despite his nerves--despite everything--Gar felt a small smile begin to lift his features. A light, but entirely genuine, chuckle bubbling from his throat. “Hah! Yeah, that sounds… that sounds like Cliff.”

He paused, aware that his face had grown hot. Gar reached up, touched his fingertips to his cheek. The skin felt warmer than he thought it would. Was he… --no. It’s the nerves. _Idiot._ He cleared his throat, twisting on his heel, so he leaned his back against the alley wall, propping one of his feet against it as well.

“Maybe he could use some tweezers or something. Vic’s fingers are kinda big, too, and he’s made all kindsa little… thingamajigs to get around it when he works on tiny things.”

“Mm. That’s a good idea. I’ll try to tell him, but. You know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Another pause. A longer one.

“... Garfield, we--”

“Are you okay?” He interrupted her. It was an impulse more than anything. He forced his fingers to loosen around his phone, exhaling carefully through his nose so he was certain she wouldn’t hear. “Are… are you…?”

“I’m _fine_ , Garfield.” Her voice was softer, now. Not quite gentle but not tense, either. “It wasn’t serious. It never has been.”

The heat was back, but now it was in his blood. Stewing in his chest. He swallowed hard, tilting his head skyward. Fluffy, white clouds drifted between spaces of building roofs overhead. “But you don’t like it.”

“... Garfield. I’m alright.”

“He shouldn’t treat you like--”

“I didn’t call to discuss _me_ , Garfield.” Her tone was firmer now.

Gar set his jaw, biting down on the words eager to escape. _You didn’t call at all_. He swallowed them. Inhaling through his mouth and holding it in his lungs for a moment. Cool it. Just cool it. He nodded, now bowing his head, so his chin was inches from his collar. “... Yeah, I know.”

A short pause. They were walking on eggshells, now. They both knew it. His ear twitched at the blare of a car horn, but he didn’t glance towards the alley opening.

“You… should apologize,” Rita continued. The firmness in her voice had dissolved, returning it to its gentle, almost motherly state. “The longer you put it off, the worse things will be when you get back.”

_What am I apologizing for, again?_

“I guess.”

“None of us--... ...we don’t… want this for you, Garfield. And I know you don’t want it, either.”

_You have no idea what I want._

“I didn’t _do_ anything, Rita.”

“You spoke back to him.”

“I called him out because he was an asshole!”

“--Garfield!”

He pressed one hand over his face, suppressing a growl that threatened to rise in his throat. “--Sorry. ...sorry. A jerk. He was… he was a jerk.”

Rita sighed deeply. He could hear exhaustion on her breath. He could picture her on the edge of her bed or the end of the couch, hunched over, fingertips pressed against her temples as she held the phone to her ear and shook her head. She’d be alone. She would have made sure of it. The guilt hit him just as quick as the anger had, and he ran his hand down his face until it rested on his chin and mouth. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be there to wrap his arms around her shoulders... provide some kind of comfort that... ugh, he didn't know. That she wasn't alone? That he was on her side? Seconds dragged on until he finally allowed his posture to deflate, and his hand dropped away from his lips.

“... Rita, I’m sorry,” he said, almost a whisper.

She didn’t respond for a second or so. “I know, Garfield.” Her voice was quieter. Weaker. He wanted to melt into the wall behind him and never be seen or heard from again. “I know. I just… I don’t. I don’t want this tension, again.”

He stayed quiet.

“I know you mean well. You’ve always meant well. This… it’s not worth it. Please. Pick your battles carefully.”

“Not worth it?” Gar’s frown deepened, and his brows pressed hard against the lids of his eyes. “He shouldn’t treat you like that, Rita. You're his _wife_.”

“Garfield, it’s okay.”

“No, Rita, it’s not!”

“ **Yes**. It _is_.” The firmness was back. There was even this… guarded feeling to it. He could feel himself shrinking. His lips pressed together. She continued. “How Steve and I work together is _our_ business. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not needed. We’re alright. I just… I wish you wouldn’t defy him so often. I thought we’d mended this back…”

Back when we reunited. ...yeah. He thought they had, too.

“I’m not 'defying' him,” he argued. His free hand fidgeted with the ends of his shirt, tugging it, rolling it between his fingers. Just as he'd expected, he was drawing a mental blank. The words he needed, the words he wanted, eluded him. “He… --he can’t… --if how he ‘works with you’ is your business, then my friends are **my** business.”

“Garfield.”

“ _What_?” He winced at the tone of his own voice, quickly swallowing the rest of the bite down. “Standing up for my friends is ‘defying’ him, too? I’m supposed to just stand there and let him talk crap about them like he knows anything about them?”

“ _Garfield_. That’s not what I’m--”

“But it is!” He dropped the hem of his shirt, throwing his arm out as he leaned forward a little, glowering into the ground. “I don’t care what he says about me, Rita. That’s fine--he can say whatever he wants. But he doesn’t get to talk about them. _**Any**_ of them.”

He emphasizes the word despite knowing she won’t like it. And she doesn’t. Her voice is gentle, but the attempt to soften the blow doesn’t take away the sting.

“You need to be careful, Garfield. ...I ...I don’t... I _know_ what happened before--”

“-- _No_ , you **don’t** \--”

Her voice hardened, “--and we don’t want it to happen _again_.”

“It’s been _three years_ , Rita. Ajaya hasn’t done anything but help us. She saved my butt like two weeks ago. She's helping us track down Kardiak right now. She was up all night running... tech-lingo with Vic yesterday.”

Several seconds passed, and she didn’t respond. Gar’s arm had lowered. He resumed toying with the hem of his shirt. Again, he heard a faint, heavy sigh on her end of the line. And, again, the guilt took hold of his stomach, turning it tight and icy. They’d already had this argument. _All_ of them. He wanted to hang up. He wanted this stupid call to end. Why wouldn’t summer just fade away--just… sweep itself under the rug and leave him alone? He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He’d gotten away from it. He hated that he felt this way. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be so eager to get away from his family--a family he’d been fortunate enough to find and be accepted into.

... _mostly_ accepted.

“She’s not even here to defend herself,” he said. It wasn’t until he’d already spoken that he realized he’d said the words aloud. His gaze bore into the ground, and he could feel a burning sensation swelling behind his eyes. But he couldn’t stop himself. The words kept coming. “You all talk about her like she’s some kind of monster and she’s not even _here_.”

“Garfield.” Again with the soft, almost-but-not-quite motherly voice. There was a time in his life when it would have been soothing, but… now, he just felt patronized. “She tried to _kill_ you. _All_ of you. The city was under siege, and it only would have gotten worse.”

“She _saved_ us.”

“What other options did she have?”

His throat tightened, ran dry. He couldn’t make out where the alley floor ended and the wall ahead of him began; the grays and dull reds and browns had blurred together through hot tears. A spike of nausea twisted above his collar. He had to get away. He had to run.

“I have to go,” he said quickly, his voice almost breaking on the last word. “I-I’m late.”

“Garfield--”

“--I was supposed to meet someone like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Please don’t--”

“Bye, Rita. Love you.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and tapped his thumb on the red button. The temptation to full-on pitch his phone down the alley came and went in a blink, and he exhaled a shaken breath as it passed, letting his hands fall back on the wall, his head tipping against the brick behind him. His breath hitched as he slid downwards to sit, draping his forearms over his knees and letting his phone slip out of his fingers, ignoring it as it clattered on the cement. He swallowed and closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, so the tears were forced out and down his face.

A small sound trilled from his right, and he lifted an ear, tilting his head enough to peek out of one eye.

Ellie had wiggled her way to the backpack’s opening and even gone as far as to poke her head through the zipper. She was blinking at him, her blue-ringed eyes bright and curious.

Gar stared at her for a few seconds before extending an arm to her. She watched his fingers as they stopped an inch from her beak, then stretched her neck out to give the tips of them a nibble. Again, she trilled softly, giving the pad on the underside of his finger a peck. He smiled weakly, sniffing.

“We should probably get going. Huh, Ellie?” He asked, letting his weight tip just enough to scratch the top of her head. She tilted her beak up, her eyes half-closing. “Wally’s probably wondering if I really did decide to walk in slow motion. Slowpokes like us stress him out.”

She squawked, shifting her weight between her feet.

Gar swiped the back of his arm across his face, scrubbing at his cheeks with the heel of his palm afterward. With a final sniff, he took in a deep breath, held it, and let it go, allowing the remaining tension in his stomach and chest to leave with the exhale. He nodded to himself and pushed to his feet.

With his backpack carefully slung over his shoulders, his face dry, and his phone now stuffed deep in the inner pocket of his pack, he returned to the sidewalk. He kept his pace brisk, gaze focused on the path ahead. The faster he could get to the shop and meet up with Wally, the faster he could get away from all this. He just wanted to see the pictures. He wanted to share and show them to Wally, too. To see if they’d been successful with their selfie attempts, if the photos he took of Wally dancing with Kori came out well, and how Wally would react to seeing the beginnings of Rachel’s tattoo. He wanted to share that excitement. It'd been Wally's idea to purchase the camera in the first place.

He rounded the street corner, hopping a curb and tucking his thumbs beneath the straps of his backpack. Up ahead, he could see the little shop where they’d turned in the film. Standing right in front of it, rocking back and forth on his heels and apparently tortured by the idea of staying still for too long, was Wally. His red hair stood out in the groups of people passing by. The relief that washed over Gar was instantaneous.

“Hey!” He called, throwing one hand in the air and waving his arm widely. Wally’s head snapped towards him. He blinked before a broad grin brightened his features, and he raised a hand, stepping towards Gar as he approached.

“THERE you are!” Wally said, pocketing his hand as they reached each other. “I was starting to get kinda worried.”

Gar smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I, uh, got distracted on my way here. Gotta pass through the park, and there are a lot of cute dogs.”

“I hope you pet some for me.”

“Duh.”

Wally laughed, tipping his head towards the shop. “‘Preciate it. C’mon! Let’s get these pics before the place closes!”

“Yeah!” Gar said, letting his smile grow into a grin. “I don’t think I could wait any longer--it's been the worst!”

Wally smirked, waggling his brows, and Gar cuffed his arm with a snort. They walked into the shop laughing, and after Gar passed some bills over the counter, the envelope of photos collected, they exited. He left the weight of the phone call in the store behind him.

“Dude,” Gar said, holding the envelope closer to his face as his ears raised, his thumbs flicking at the envelope fold. “ _Dude_ , I’m so excited.”

He pressed the fold upward, resisting the urge to start bouncing along on his toes. In a way, it felt almost stupid. They were just pictures--not much different than anything he took with his phone. But the distance between taking them and finally getting to see them… what had Wally called it before? A ‘rush’?

“Let’s find a bench!” Wally said. He jogged forward, and Gar trotted after him. They wove through small groups of meandering civilians and found their way to one of the nearby squares. The Jump City squares weren’t quite as large and open as the Central City squares were; rather than a fountain at their center, most of them had simple statues or floral displays. Gar always preferred the latter. They were colorful and smelled sweet, comforting and welcoming. He grinned as he dashed to the nearest bench, twisting on his heel, so he fell back onto the seat and slid a small way across it. Ellie squawked loudly from inside his backpack, and he winced a little, glancing over his shoulder. “--Sorry, Ellie!”

“Oh no!” Wally laughed, dropping onto the bench beside him. “Did you scare her?”

“Maybe.” Gar set the envelope in his lap and rolled his shoulders behind him, letting the backpack slide away so he could pull it around and onto his knees. He unzipped it. Ellie squawked again, and he reached inside to scoop one hand beneath her towel nest. She shuffled a little as he lifted her and nudged the pack aside, warbling and stretching her neck enough to give his thumb a nibble. “Sorry, Ellie. I spaced and forgot you were in there.”

She pecked his thumb.

“Poor Ellie,” Wally said, scooting a little closer. He lifted his hands a bit. “May I hold her? --You think she’d mind?”

Gar smiled at him, turning enough to pass the towel nest into Wally’s palms. “Nah! She, uh, definitely likes to hang with me the most, but she’s been cool with Kori holding her.”

“Well, it’s _Kori_. It’s kind of impossible to not be cool with Kori.”

“It’s kinda impossible not to be cool with you, too,” Gar countered, smirking. “You and Kori are, like, some of the coolest people to be around.”

Wally looked up from Ellie and at him, smiling. Gar’s smirk softened to a smile of his own.

He wanted to emphasize that it was true. That it was seriously so amazing how safe a place Wally's presence was. How he was able to get through to people and understand them and even help them turn in the right direction. Ajaya was a perfect example of that; he’d seen the good buried deep within her and helped her understand how to dig it out when no one else would. He saved people in more ways than just pulling them out of burning buildings or taking down some kind of otherworldly threat. He gave them hope, showed them there was love and kindness to be found in the world.

And Gar wanted to tell him that--emphasize that he meant what he'd said, give examples--but his tongue was suddenly swollen in his mouth. His throat, dry and tight. He cleared it, quickly ducking his head and fumbling the envelope back into his hands.

“--Okay! Pictures!”

He tore the top open, digging his hand in and pulling the photos out. Their surfaces were almost sticky to the touch, and he realized his thumbprints were left on the images. “--Oh. ...oops.”

“It’s fine!” Wally shifted his hands, reaching over to point at the pictures. “Just hold them near the corners or edges. If you smudge them at all, we can wipe them with a clean with some fabric or something. Film pictures are kinda weird like that.”

Gar nodded, careful to shift his fingers, so he almost balanced the photos along their edges. He could feel his expression brightening and a cheerful swell in his chest. They were both silent for a moment before the laughter gently broke out. Wally settled Ellie’s nest in his lap, leaning in to get a better look.

The photo on the top was, of course, that first selfie attempt they’d taken shortly after leaving the shop in Central City. Keyword being: attempt. They were off-center and positioned too high, so the tops of their heads--from their noses up--were cut off at the edge. Wally was grinning, and Gar could see his own extensive and laughing smile. That’s right; Wally had taken the picture just as he’d started laughing.

“That’s great!” Wally said, giving the photo a gentle poke. “I think the angle gives it character!”

Gar grinned up at him, chuckling. “Yeah! Dude, that’s cool! I take back that a screen woulda been nice.”

“Atta boy.”

Gar chuckled again, carefully moving the top photo to the back. The next picture was the one with the fountain; he stood on the edge of the bench, arms stretched just far enough out, so they appeared to hold the fountain on display. It was a near-perfect angle, and he felt the tiniest bit of pride about that.

“Check it out!” He exclaimed, holding it up a little higher for Wally to get a better look. Wally’s eyes and grin widened.

“It worked! You totally look like you’re holding it!”

“Thanks to your awesome camera work. All I did was stand there!”

“Pfffff!” Wally waved him off, leaning back against the bench. He gingerly poked a finger towards Ellie, who chirruped at him. She didn’t attempt to nibble his fingertip but held her beak agape. “...what’re you doing, goofball?”

“She’s sizin’ you up,” Gar said, smirking. “Give her a minute to get used to you. She’s only met ya once, y’know. --Here! This might help.” He leaned over to grab his backpack again, fishing out the turkey baster and the double sandwich bagged formula. The moment Ellie saw it, she opened her beak wide and began shrieking, causing Wally to stiffen, then laugh. Gar laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, she’s ready for food. Sorry, Ellie.”

Ellie squawked at him, giving her tiny wings a flap. Wally grinned as he accepted the bag, setting it beside him and opening it to fill the turkey baster. “Don’t mind us. Keep going! I’m sure there are pictures in there I don’t know about.”

“Yeah, there are.” Gar bounced his brows at him, turning the next photo over. “--oh!! Heh. This is a picture Kori took on accident while I was showing her the camera.” He angled it so Wally could get a better look. Most of the image was covered in a golden blur, with Kori’s bright green eyes just visible in the upper right corner. “Luckily the flash wasn’t on or whatever.”

“No kidding!” Wally said. He offered the baster to Ellie, who greedily accepted it, then looked back up. “I did that to myself a time or two back in the day. Big fan of the squiggly pink blob you see afterward, myself.”

Gar laughed, looking at him. “Why?”

“I’nno,” Wally said, shrugging with a chuckle. “Why not?”

“Touché.”

Gar flipped to the next picture. He grinned instantly. “Here’s Vic making those meatballs he thinks are so awesome.”

“Because…” Wally gave him a stern look, his brow creased just above the slope of his nose. “They _are_ awesome.”

Gar blew air out of his lips, rolling his eyes upward. “Pfffff. Whatever.”

Wally ducked his head to look down at Ellie. “Don’t listen to him, Ellie. He speaks lies.”

Ellie continued to guzzle down her meal. The quality of meatballs was, clearly, of peak importance to her.

“I would never lie to my silly bird,” Gar said, flipping to the next photo. The top of his head was just barely visible in this one, as he’d attempted to take a selfie with Kori, Rachel, and Vic while they sat around the table. He could see the bottom half of Vic and Kori’s faces, Kori’s left cheek swollen with a mouthful of spaghetti. Vic had two whole meatballs impaled on a fork. Rachel peered into the lens, her expression neutral and one of her brows noticeably raised. She was the only one who’d made it into the picture without losing pieces of her face. Gar grinned widely, and he began to turn and show it to Wally when the redhead gasped. His attention had locked onto the neighborhoods just outside the city, and he even leaned forward a bit in an attempt to get a better look past the buildings.

Gar’s ears snapped upward, and he lowered the photos. “--what is it? Do…--is it Kardiak?”

“--no! No, sorry,” Wally said quickly. He turned back around, meeting Gar’s eyes briefly before pointing towards the neighborhoods and the hills they sprouted from. “Look! --there’s a fog rolling in!”

Gar craned his head to look past Wally’s shoulders, following the line of his finger. Sure enough, a soft, gray cloud was seeping through the forest line. It drifted down the hillside, each puff rolling like a mix of ocean waves and rainwater as it trickled along. It would be another hour, at least, before it reached the city. He grinned, popping his shoulders upward. “Oh, that! Yeah, uh, that happens ‘round this time’a year! Probably has to do with the colder weather or something.”

“Wow,” Wally said. “We definitely don’t get anything like that around Central.”

“Really?”

“Well. I mean. We don’t exactly have a forest or… a slope or anything. If we get fog, it’s more like we just kinda wake up and a cloud decided to drop in. Literally."

Gar blinked. A spike of energy surged through him, and all at once he was stuffing the photos back into their envelope, tucking them into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and leaping to his feet. “--we’re not even seeing the best part!”

“Huh?” Wally looked up at him, straightening. He gently pulled the baster out of Ellie’s beak as he did.

“Here!” Gar stepped forward, scooping Ellie’s nest into his arms so she’d be snug against his chest, one of his forearms draped over her head to shield her. “I’ll hold her. Toss the baggie and baster into my backpack, and we’ll find, uh… somewhere to go zoom.”

Wally arched a brow at him but did as instructed. He put the baster in its bag and made sure to seal both it and the food baggie with care. Once both items were returned to the backpack, and the pack zipped up, he took a step back and gave Gar a thumbs up. Gar grinned, rounding him and making a beeline for the sidewalk.

They found an alley about a block down. Wally scooped Gar up with one arm, and they were off. The city smeared away, replaced by pine, oak and the crisp scent of wet dirt. Gar took a moment to drink it all in as he regained his balance. The air might be thick, the fog more than a little spooky, but he was too excited to care. He shifted his arms, so Ellie remained cradled in the crook of one elbow and snatched Wally’s wrist with the other, pulling him forward through the cloud. Wally grunted, stumbling once before he easily matched Gar’s pace.

“Sooo?”

Gar grinned back at him. “You’ll see!”

“See what?”

“You’ll _see_!!”

Wally laughed. “ _See_ WHAT?!”

Gar let out a huff, dragging him onward.

He kept moving until he saw the earth dip. They were near the slope of the hill, just at the edge of the treeline. Gar pulled Wally out of the forest, slowing to a wide-strided walk as he approached four large rocks. Kori and Vic had placed them there for moments like this. Whenever they wanted to come and watch the fog, they’d have somewhere aside from the damp grass to sit. But Wally wasn’t looking at the rocks. Gar had already heard him gasp, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed what Wally was looking at.

The fog crept out of the woods like gray, whispy molossus. Slow, seeping, and weaving as it passed through stray trees and the first of the neighborhood homes as though it were just as much liquid as it was air. It would continue this path until it reached the sea, and within only a few hours, it would be dotted and decorated by the lights of the city. From a distance, it would look like a slow-flowing stream from forest to ocean, speckled with fireflies.

“Whoa,” Wally breathed. He took a few small steps forward, Gar allowing his wrist to slide free of his grip.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Gar said, side-stepping to sit in front of one of the rocks. He slid his backpack off his shoulders, letting it drop to the side. “Give it a few hours, and it’ll really be neat.”

Ellie trilled as Gar set her nest in his lap, wiggling a little and tilting her head up and around to gaze at him. He smiled at her before looking up at Wally. He was still standing a few feet ahead, his expression impossible to see from this angle. But his posture looked relaxed. Gar could feel a faint warmth in the air despite the chilly temperatures drifting around them and the grass tickling his ankles. A tiny shiver ran through his skin, and he turned his head to watch a cloud ghost through the trees to his right.

By the time that cloud reached the rocks he sat in front of, Wally had turned away from the city view and wandered to Gar’s side. He eased absently onto one of the stones, resting his palms on its curved edge and staring out over the horizon, where the sun began to drift downward. Its slow exit colored the sky in gradients of vibrant oranges, pinks, and darkening blues. Already, the moon was taking its place. It was nearly full. At first glance, it might appear whole, but further inspection would show its side hadn’t quite evened out. He imagined it would be full as ever in just a few days.

“It’s called the Harvest Moon, right?”

Gar’s ears lifted, and he glanced at Wally. “Huh?”

“The September full moon,” Wally said. He smiled down at Gar, shrugging. “Ajaya told me a while back that each full moon has a, uh… name. --Matches with the ‘energies’ coming off the Earth during the phase. If memory serves, September is the Harvest. --or, at least. Here in the States, it is. Different cultures have different names and reasons and all that.”

“Dude, that’s cool!”

“Yeah!” Wally folded his hands in the open space between his knees, leaning forward on his elbows to stare into the sky. “I bet Rachel would know, too. Even if she and Ajaya get their magick from different… sources. --is that the right term?”

Gar tilted his head, one ear remaining up as the other slanted. “You’re asking me?”

Wally snorted, shrugging. Gar chuckled and leaned back, letting his head rest against the cold stone as he tilted it skyward. Rachel did have someone in her contacts with nothing but a crescent moon icon for their name. Maybe her magick did have something to do with the lunar cycles? Heh. He wondered if she'd tell him after he made enough werewolf jokes around her in hopes of shutting him up. He smirked to himself as he absently ran two of his fingertips over Ellie’s back.

They fell into silence for a little while. The creeping fog slipped past them, blanketing the grass and air. Most of the golds, oranges, and pinks were moving out of sight. Navies and black took their place, coaxing more stars out of hiding.

“It’s really nice out here,” Wally muttered. “I’m usually in the city. The only time I get to see stars anything like this is when I’m on the Watchtower.”

“Really?” Gar asked. He saw Wally nod out of the corners of his eyes. Gar shrugged a shoulder. “This still isn’t as bright as it gets. Back in Africa, we didn’t have a lot of houses ‘round. Everything was so dark. The sky had more light than the ground did most of the time.”

“Did you like living there?”

Gar felt his throat tighten slightly. He remembered the old ‘house’ roof. That sense of freedom, but also the genuine sense of fear. A thick, dominant hand wrapped around his neck. Hot breath; the burning, rotten scent of tobacco and alcohol. A sharp throb in his head.

“...Gar?”

He jumped, jolted out of the memory. Gar glanced at Wally but quickly looked away, shifting his jaw as he stared down at the grass on his right. “--uh. Yeah! Yeah, Africa was great.”

... Silence.

He felt… cold. Or, at least, was now acutely aware of the chilling touch of the fog ghosting over his skin. Only it didn’t so much affect his skin. It settled more in his stomach, twisting until its grasp caused almost physical pain. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and swallowing. It would fade. He just had to change the topic. Bring it back to the excitement over the fog--or the photos they just developed. That was it! The photos. He opened his eyes, inhaling a little. They hadn’t finished looking through them.

A movement stopped him before he could reach for his backpack. Wally had slipped off the rock, sliding down its side to sit against it, so he was just on Gar’s left. He was looking at him, his expression gentle but cautious. Gar wanted to look away--wanted to break eye contact--but found that he couldn’t. He just stared back.

“...Gar,” Wally started, his voice and tone soft. “You… _are_ doing okay… right?”

Gar managed a swallow, his gaze darting away before returning in an instant. “Yeah.”

“You’d tell us if you weren’t?”

“Of course!” Gar frowned, his shoulders slumping a little. It was a blatant lie. --No. A partial lie. ...no. ...it was blatant. Still, he kept up the act. “I trust you guys. --All of you.”

“I’m not asking because I think you don’t,” Wally said quickly, beginning to extend a hand and stopping himself. He withdrew it back to his person, but not before it’d hovered over Gar’s knee for a second or so. Gar caught himself--his brain--fixated between that and the subject of conversation. Wally sighed, his gaze sinking into the grass between them. “I’m… I’m asking because… --you’ve. You’ve been worrying us.” He looked up again, frowning. “Ajaya told me you were acting ‘skittish’ that first night you were back in Jump City.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. She was concerned.”

“She _was_?”

Wally’s frown deepened a little, and Gar clamped his mouth shut. A few seconds passed before Wally continued. “And you… you seemed distant the other day when we were gardening. I know you said you were tired, but. When you showed up today, your eyes were kind of red. And...” His eyes trailed slowly to Gar’s arms. “... I’m worried.”

“Wally, I’m okay.” Gar shrugged, resisting the urge to hug or fold his arms. He even managed a smile. It didn’t feel all that convincing. “What happened in the diner…--it just caught me off guard. I’m used to people staring at me. It’s, uh. Just usually because I’m green, y’know? Not… because I have scars. Heh.”

He felt his smile weaken. Felt goosebumps prickle the skin on his arms, raise the hair. Wally’s expression fell slightly. He remained quiet for a moment or so before reaching out again, this time gently settling his hand on Gar’s shoulder.

“I just want you to know, Gar,” he said, “that… you can tell us. Whatever it is, you _can_ tell us, and we’ll listen. We’ll _help_ if we can and if you want us to. You’ve… been through just as much as any of us. I don’t want you to feel like we overlook that. We love you. If something is going on, we don’t want you to feel like you have to face it alone.”

“...”

Gar stared at him. Breath swelled in his lungs, and he felt his entire face run hot. He couldn't tell if his ribs or his heart was causing the sensation of vibration in his chest.

Maybe it’d been the kind words. Maybe it’d been the comforting hand on his shoulder. Or the sincere smile Wally gave him as he finished speaking--the reassuring squeeze of his fingers. The way moonlight touched his blue eyes--the way his hair stood out like a flame against the darkening fog. Maybe it’d been a combination of all of that and everything before and in between. Whatever it was, it hit him in a rush. Like jumping into a hot tub on a snowy, winter afternoon. Warm, bubbly, consuming and a little dizzying.

He wanted to lean in.

He wanted to close the distance between them.

He wanted to kiss him.

_...oh, god…_

It was ludicrous, but it was there. Completely and undeniably there. And in having that desire--in letting it cross his mind, in acknowledging its presence--he’d dug up something buried. The realization that this desire… was nothing new.

He’d felt it--or something very much like it--before. On the beach, after they’d rolled through the sand. When he realized their legs were tangled over each other. While they danced, hand-in-hand in the garden. When he'd seen Wally's sleeves rolled up and over his elbows. When Wally had given him the camera. At every act of kindness, be it towards himself or others. Every glimpse of hope. The mercy and understanding and warmth given even to those he called enemies; Gar may not have been present for the events that had transpired the night The Flash Museum opened, but he’d overheard Bruce. He knew the love and patience Wally had shown to Trickster that night, and the swell of pride he'd felt in his chest. Those feelings had been there, even then. Just smaller. A seed planted at an unknown time and waiting to bloom.

“...Gar?”

Wally’s voice jolted him back to reality, gentle but abrupt. His vision cleared, and he realized Wally’s hand was still on his shoulder, his head was even ducked close, and they were still sitting at the edge of the forest’s slope. Gar felt his body tense, the realizations, the warmth, the fear all sinking in again.

“Are you… okay? …--did I say something?”

Oh, god, why was he such an _idiot_? How did it happen--how did he let it happen? Please, not Wally. Of all people, why Wally?

His friendship meant the world to him. They’d clicked instantly, three years ago. He’d watched Wally grow, watched him change lives, watched him become the pride of so many people they looked up to. Came to realize that… he’d _always_ been kind and hopeful and generous, had always wanted to be the good people could find in the world. Wally had inspired him to be better. Or… to try being better. But he’d… he’d never… --none of his relationships lasted beyond a year, and they'd all started with sudden crushes on _strangers_ or people who practically _were_ strangers. Sure, he and Bette were still close friends after their short-lived relationship, but… he’d ruin it. He just knew he’d destroy it. He’d do something stupid. He’d mess up. --It was different than before. He and Wally _weren't_ strangers. What if something terrible happened?

He’d fought a creepy mind-manipulator. He’d gone up against an interdimensional demon who thought loin-cloths were a good idea. He’d infiltrated the headquarters of an organization threatening to take out an entire generation of heroes before they had the chance to reach adulthood. But _none_ of that terrified him as much as the idea of what might happen if he acted on that pull in his chest. If he leaned in and _kissed_ Wally.

“...--no!” Gar found his voice. It was squeaker than he remembered it being. “--No! Heh! Heheh--no, no, I, uh--” _stop talking_ “--just--I zoned out--totally--and, um--I mean! I zoned out AFTER you finished talking--I was listening--” _please, stop talking, stop talking NOW_ “--I thought I saw a bat--from the woods?--and it made me think of this cryptid back in Gotha-- **OW**!!!!”

They both jumped as Gar pulled his hand out of his lap, flicking it and hissing through his teeth as his thumb began to throb. He looked down, and Ellie tilted her head to blink up at him.

“--Did she bite you?” Wally asked. Gar looked at him, taking in his wide-eyed expression. A mix of concern and utter confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Y… yeah,” Gar said, looking down at his hand. A tiny bead of blood had begun to form in the center of his thumb’s pad. It’d been one heck of a bite for a baby bird. But, in more ways than one, Ellie was just like all of them. She wasn’t exactly ‘normal.’ “Yeah, I’m okay. I must’ve… squeezed her or something. Oops. Sorry, Ellie.”

She seemed to huff out a breath, her tiny body swelling and shrinking again.

Gar cleared his throat, adjusting the towel around her as he began to speak. His mind felt a little clearer, now. “Um. --Sorry, Wally, I didn’t mean to, um. …--I … --what, what you said meant a lot. -- _Means_ a lot.” He looked up at Wally again, continuing to toy with the towel in an attempt to veil the quake in his hands. He smiled. “Thank you. Really.”

“Yeah,” Wally said. His posture relaxed again, and he smiled back. It was warm. Comforting. The emotion it sent surging through Gar’s chest might have caused him actual physical pain. But he didn’t care. “Of course, Gar. We’ve got your back, y’know? I just… --I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Gar said. And he did. “But… I’m okay, Wally. --I’ll… I’ll tell you if that changes.”

Wally shrugged, his smile softening. “It doesn’t have to be me. Whoever you feel safest and most comfortable with, Gar. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

_...cripes…_

“Heh. Roger that.”

They fell silent. After that moment… he honestly couldn’t remember anything else that had happened before he walked back into the Tower that night. Or, at least, not in detail. More like it’d happened over a month ago, and he could recall it only in obscure bits and pieces.

There’d been some talk of constellations. A brief discussion about Wally’s classwork and how he’d be looking into internships soon. Ellie had her final meal of the day. They’d walked from the slope to the neighborhood line before deciding Wally might as well run him back to the Tower. The contact had lasted less than a second, but it still left Gar’s stomach with a swarm of jitters and light as air. He’d waved. Wally disappeared, a trail of water leaping up in his wake, and Gar went inside.

He didn’t take the elevator to the OPs Room. It passed the floor, ascending another two before slowing and stopping on his. Gar let his feet do the thinking, and they carried him down the hall and into the bathroom, where he carefully settled his backpack on the counter by the sink. He removed Ellie and her nest, setting her gingerly on the counter so he could swap her towel for a clean one. Somehow a toothbrush wound up in his mouth. Wherever the rest of the world had gone, it must have decided to come back to him. The whirlwind in his head cleared enough for him to see his reflection staring back at him and the pale mint toothpaste foaming between the corner of his lips. The sink was running. Ellie had her head tilted towards it, seemingly fascinated by the concept of flowing water.

Gar watched as she clumsily wiggled her way out of the new towel, flopping onto the counter with all the grace of a dizzy toddler. She recovered without much concern, however, and dragged herself to the sink’s edge with her gangly gray legs. She looked pretty ridiculous. Thankfully, babies of almost any species never really gave a damn about how they looked when they were on a mission. Usually, he didn’t either. No one looks stupid when they’re having fun.

He kept brushing but lowered one hand to poke his fingers under the water stream. It was pretty cold, so he twisted the heat knob a little and tried again. Better. More lukewarm, now. He reached around the faucet to tug upward on the latch, closing the sink drain. Once it’d filled to maybe an inch deep, he shut the water off and side-stepped to the next sink over.

Ellie watched him for a moment before tilting her head back to the puddle now sitting at the bottom of the sink. He could see the gears turning in her head as she puzzled over whether or not this was a good idea. She must have chosen whatever the bird equivalent for ‘screw it!’ was because she wiggled forward and let herself tumble down the side with a shrill squeak. He leaned over, watching her flick her wings and flail a bit. She sat up, blinked, and peeped at him. He smirked a little.

“I’ve created a monster. Haven’t I?”

Ellie tilted her head down. She eyed the pooled water, then shoved her beak into it. Maybe five seconds passed before water was flying in every direction.

Gar spat into the other sink and rinsed his mouth out. Once his toothbrush was set aside, he pulled himself up to sit on the counter, curling his legs up into his chest, so the heels of his feet rested just on the edge. He wrapped his arms around his legs, just below the knees, and stared into the shower across from him.

“... _mmmnnnnghhhhhh_.”

He ducked his head, pressing his forehead to his knees and exhaling through his nose.

He was going to ruin it. He was going to ruin everything. All it’d taken was his first crush to show everyone that he was about as subtle as a piano rolling down a flight of stairs, crashing over the banister and landing directly on a glass statue. It hadn’t gotten better with age. Once he got in a ten-foot radius of the current heartthrob, he turned into a bumbling idiot whether he liked it or not. Somehow he both couldn’t think and thought too fast. It was going to be so obvious. It was going to be so, _so_ obvious. ...if it wasn’t already.

Gar lifted his head and drew his hands to his face, pressing them over his eyes and slowly dragging them down his cheeks until then reached his jawline. He sat like that for a long moment. Then, his gaze drifted to his backpack. He leaned over, reaching across to drag it closer and digging around inside. He found the envelope of photos and pulled it out, setting it quietly in his lap. Once he mustered the courage, he gingerly tugged the pictures out and began to flip through them. There were a few more silly, poorly shot pictures of himself with the other members of his team. An attempted selfie from over Rachel’s shoulder as she read, a photo of Vic half-under the T-Car as he added some new features, a charming shot of Kori with Silkie perched on her head, and a picture of the three of them standing around a mixing bowl in the kitchen. Vic had tried a new recipe that evening, and Kori had… insisted on helping. Somehow, it all worked out in the end. Probably thanks to Rachel.

He smiled weakly, turning to the next photo in the stack. It was Wally and Kori dancing in the garden. Wally had his arm extended behind him, and Kori was mid-twirl. Gar chewed on his upper lip, feeling the warmth beginning to creep into his face and ears. He couldn’t remember if Kori took a picture of them while they’d been swing-dancing. The moment they’d genuinely taken off, the rest of the world had sunk away. If his ears weren’t as sensitive as they were, he might never have heard his phone alarm going off, alerting him to feed Ellie. He inhaled, continuing through the next four photos. And… there it was.

In the photo, they were an arm’s length apart, held upright only by their grip on each other. He had one foot kicked up, one arm was thrown out above and behind him and a happy, toothy smile. Wally was grinning hugely, caught in a similar pose. He was laughing.

Gar swallowed, lowering the stack of photos until he set them down on the counter beside him. He leaned back until his shoulders and head touched the mirror, closing his eyes and letting his posture slump. Time crept by as he listened to Ellie splash around in the water, allowed his mind to scramble until it finally calmed down enough to run an almost blank. He sighed, tilting his head and slanting his gaze to look down at her.

“...y’know, Ellie,” he muttered. “It’s when things are… like _this_ that I think I got the short end of the stick. I can turn into any animal on this weird planet, but I’ll never be as blissfully unaware as you guys.”

She paused, feathers somehow both thoroughly soaked but also poofed up and around her like a little storm cloud. He smirked weakly.

“You guys just have to worry about who feeds you, where you’re gonna sleep and…” he trailed off, the smirk withering away as he realized what he was saying.

He had it warped. Didn’t he? Most animals didn’t think past basic survival. Heck… there’d been four years where _he_ hadn’t thought past basic survival. He’d lived that life. It'd been pure luck that he'd escaped it. Everything he had now was a luxury compared to that.

Gar rubbed his face, sighing deeply as his hand dragged down to rest on the slope of his neck and shoulder. “...sorry, Ellie. Ignore me. M’being stupid again. M'not thinking.”

She blinked back up at him.

They stared at each other a moment longer before Gar pushed off the counter and slid to his feet. He gingerly scooped her out of the water, placing her on yet another fresh towel and tenderly dabbing at her feathers to help dry them. She pecked and nibbled at the cloth and his fingers, squawking occasionally. Seemed like it was more of a game to her than anything else. Once she was dry, he turned to his backpack. Gar stared at the photos now slid a small way across the counter before sweeping them back into a pile and returning them to the envelope. He tucked it away in an inner pocket of the pack, slinging it over his shoulder. With Ellie and nest in hand, he exited the bathroom.

“Maybe I’ll sleep it off,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Yeah. ...yeah, that’s it. It was a long day. A long week. I just... need sleep. Then I’ll think clearly. Then… everything will be okay. Nothing will've changed.”

But after reaching his room, settling Ellie's nest on the bottom bunk and climbing onto his top mattress, he realized that wasn't entirely going to be the case. 

Wally had texted him. Maybe three minutes after he'd dropped Gar off at the Tower.

> [forceofnature, 9:35pm]: realized i totally interrupted our photo review session! D: sorry! we'll have to meet up and get back to that soon! and also pick out an album and get new film!! anyway thanks for the cool fog show, it was awesome. have a good night, dude. sleep well!!

There was no mistaking it. No denying it. His heartbeat picked up in his chest, and he felt a wave of affection ripple through him. He didn't know how to reply. A 'thanks, you too!' felt too ungrateful and simple, but anything beyond that would be excessive and obvious and awkward. His thumbs shook a little, each tap against his phone's keyboard hesitant. When he finished typing the reply, he stared at it for a long moment. He wished he was better with words. He couldn't even think of other ways to say it. 

> [alligartor, 10:13pm]: sorry this is late i gave ellie a bath! but yeah you too! sweet dreams! later gater.

Gar held his breath as he pressed his thumb against the 'send' button. He watched the message slide up and into a faint blue bubble, the buffering bar gliding across the top of the screen. Delivered. 

He locked the phone immediately, silencing it and leaning over his bed just enough to ensure its drop to the floor wouldn't result in damage. It hit the carpet with a muted _thmp!_ , and he rolled onto his back and shoved his hands over his eyes and warming cheeks. He was stupid. He was so, _so_ stupid. But he silently, with hesitant and cautious ambivalence, accepted what every bit of his soul had been whispering to him all this time.

Wally had been one of his closest friends since the day they'd met. He'd always been important to him--always cared about him. But somewhere down the line, as they'd grown, something  _had_ changed. He just had to be careful. Whether... anything came of this or not didn't matter. He couldn't lose that friendship. He couldn't let himself screw it up.


	12. Just as a Snake Sheds its Skin...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **a gentle warning:** this chapter contains brief scenes of child abuse  & violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so, so sorry for the long delay!! my family's been preparing for a move and down-sizing. that, and this chapter being the way that it was, made it a bit more difficult to plow my way through it. the next one shouldn't take three months. haha. thank you so much for sticking around!! <3

* * *

_**\- … Seven years ago … -** _

* * *

It hadn't taken long for them to discover what he’d been up to. He'd been his own undoing.

Gar had gone through with his plan. Or, he'd tried to.

_Learn to fly. And fly away._

This was, of course, much easier said than done. _Much_. Easier. Finding the quiet openings in the nights and early mornings--when Eddie and Bates were either asleep or in a drink-induced coma--was challenge enough. And that was when they weren't traveling for a hit. Having enough energy to try flying or even to climb up onto the roof was also tricky. Putting together a strategy to ensure he wouldn’t make any noise that would draw attention to him was more laborious. That had been where he’d screwed up.

Practice always took place on the roof. It was the most straightforward high point to reach since Gar already had a path in place to get there. He picked a small patch of brush to be his (hopeful) landing point if the flight thing didn’t really pan out. And. Yeah, it didn’t. Not for the first time. The second time. The third. And… never. Really. But especially not this evening.

It was a windy night. A gust he'd been hoping to ride changed direction. It knocked him from the air and, in a panic, he’d shifted back to his human form and landed directly against garbage Eddie and Bates had stacked to be collected. It collapsed. The sound had paralyzed him, fear flooding through his veins and muscles. He attempted to hide in the bush, taking the form of a rat just as Bates sprinted out the door of their hide-out. Eddie had gone to check the room he’d been locked in and, upon announcing the window was open, Bates began to prowl the area.

Panic consumed him. If he tried to run, they’d catch him or send their ‘friends’ after him. If he stayed hidden, they would surely find him. They would see him outside of his room. Maybe if he just came out of the bush, the punishment wouldn’t be as severe. Whether it was instinct or fear, he didn’t budge. He barely breathed.

It hadn’t mattered. Bates spotted him in seconds. He smiled and sprang at the bush. Gar attempted to morph into a cat-- tried to dash away, but Bates caught his back foot and ripped him through the dirt. His claws dug into the soil even as he let himself revert back, writhing, kicking, screaming as Bates knocked his arms away with ease and thrust a hand down, closing calloused fingers around his neck. Gar gagged, his fingers clawing and his lungs heaving as Bates lifted him off the ground and held him squirming in the air.

“Napenda nirudi!!” Gar choked out, attempting to kick Bates in the arm or chest. His legs weren’t long enough. “Tafadhali!!”

Bates let out a laugh, and Gar realized he was walking. “Eddie! Sami shi!”

_Found him._

Gar coughed, feeling his stomach ice over. They always spoke in Hausa or even Yoruba when they didn’t want him to understand. He’d figured out a phrase or two, but once they began an actual conversation, he was lost. He clawed at Bates’ forearm, gagging again and choking when air caught on his throat. His voice rang out on its own. His brain was on autopilot.

“Tafadhali!! Ta-Tafa- _Tafadhali!!_ ”

“Beg all you want, kidogo kijani.”

A door slammed. They were indoors. The ice in Gar's stomach spread through his body, and despite his racing and panicked mind, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His muscles locked up. He allowed himself to hang, not quite limp but not entirely tense, in Bates’ hand.

Then he was soaring backward. His arm clipped the side of the coffee table a split second before he hit the floor. Gar yelped and instantly choked on it. He’d barely gotten the chance to scramble onto his hands and knees and cough before a foot collided with his forehead, knocking him onto his side.

The world blurred. Spun. Colors faded in and out. His head swam. Throbbed. He could already feel his left eye beginning to swell. He wanted to turn into a turtle. Wanted to hide in a thick, protective shell. But out in the open--and without permission--shifting would only make his situation worse. So he merely curled in on himself, desperate to quell a sob bulging in his throat.

“Tafadhali.”

He could hear one of them laughing. Something to his left moved, and he flinched.

Eddie had squatted beside him. Gar didn’t turn his head to look at him; he kept it ducked, held his arms around its aching sides. Eddie chuckled.

“ _What_ , exactly, were you doing outside, kijani?”

Gar swallowed. Fumbled for words. “I… I-I j…” He inhaled, swallowed again. Steady your breath. Clear your head. Bates started speaking in Hausa again. They weren’t words Gar recognized. Eddie snapped at Bates, and Gar flinched further into himself. He felt the desire to morph into an armadillo or turtle surge once more through his muscles. He started shaking. Felt his entire body begin to quake from the inside out. The hit to his head had done something; smells were dulled, but sound squealed in his ears like dozens of broken radios. He couldn’t focus on anything. His heart was racing. He wanted to throw up.

“ **Kijani!** ”

Eddie’s bark snapped him into focus, and he jerked his head around despite his better judgment.

“I j-just,” Gar stuttered, forcing himself to keep from raising his hands over his face. “I just… w-wanted… to fly. I-I... --it--it could help. ...I...”

The two thieves leaned back, letting out a sound akin to a mocking coo. Gar felt his face warm. Shame. Embarrassment. Humiliation. For whatever reason, they stirred in his stomach, starting cold and warming as they spread out through his body and limbs. Not only had he been caught, but he’d been caught failing. It was pathetic.

Eddie shook his head, smirking as he tilted it sideways to meet Gar’s eyes. “Yaro. You think you can just leave us? We are partners.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Gar said, his voice hoarse. He shrank further against the floor as Eddie’s smirk grew crooked. “Sa-Samahani.”

Eddie ducked his head, shaking it slowly again. He bent a little as he pushed to his feet, Gar curling sharply in reflex. The thief swaggered across the room, rolling his jaw, running his hand over the lower half of his mouth. He rubbed it as though stroking a beard that wasn’t there. “What you think, Bates?”

They began to talk between each other in Yoruba. Gar let his gaze drift away from them, focusing instead on the wall directly across from where he lay curled on his side. His head was throbbing. Tears burned in the backs of his eyes, threatening to slip out.

_Don’t be scared. Don't cry. Don’t let them see._

His breath caught in his throat and he choked on it, wheezing down a second gulp of oxygen. Why did he do it? How had he been so stupid? He shouldn’t have tried. He should have just stayed in his room. It hadn’t worked today. Hadn’t worked earlier that month. Hadn’t worked ever.

He just wanted to _leave_. He just wanted to go _home_. He just wanted _mom_. He _wanted mom_. _He wanted mom_.

The tears came, hot and slow down his face. Each breath--inhales and exhales alike--shuddered through his throat. Distantly, he could hear one of the two thieves approaching him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t look away from the wall as the dull, sickly colors blurred together.

* * *

His face was still swollen on moving day.

Gar’s ears twitched and swiveled as Eddie and Bates moved around the small ‘house,’ gathering various necessities and tools they’d need on the next job. He stayed pinned in the corner of his room, legs curled against his chest, arms wrapped around them and face behind his knees. Every couple of minutes, his eyes would drift to the now nailed shut window. The whole room had been thoroughly checked for exits and escape routes. He’d looked. There hadn’t been many options before and there definitely weren’t any now. He deflated a little as his eyes drifted back to the door, ignoring the growl of his stomach. They’d lowered his rations again. At least he was still getting enough water.

Time crawled by.

Bates finally shoved through the room door, so the knob cracked against the wood behind it. Gar twitched, his muscles tensing, but gradually began to relax as his eyes found the crate Bates was carrying. He exhaled through his nose, shifting his legs under him to crawl onto all fours. Bates dropped the crate on the ground and kicked the door open, and Gar turned into an iguana as he crept inside. He dashed the last couple steps to avoid his tail getting crushed as Bates slammed the door shut and locked it.

He stuck to the carrier walls as Bates carried him out of the room, through the living area and outside. Surprisingly, Bates didn’t toss him into the back of the truck. He dropped the crate on the open trunk and shoved, sending it sliding backward and smacking against something hard. Gar caught himself, using his tail as a brace. A few more items and bags were thrown into the back with him, and the trunk’s wall slammed into place. Gar exhaled, letting his weight sink into the ‘floor’ of the crate. Already, he could feel the African heat seeping into the crate and warming the air inside. He wondered how long the drive would be. How long he’d have to be back here. Where they were going this time.

The truck started and, with a jerk, began to move down one of the dirt roads. Gar waited until they’d passed the bumpiest bits before creeping forward to the crate’s door and pressing his face as close as he could without touching the already heated metal bars. It’d been a while since he’d seen a sky so blue and full of clouds. They were dense today, like pieces of cotton or sofa stuffing. Some of them were thin--like string?--and wove through the thicker ones. Something dark glided just beneath one of the clouds, its wings flapping every couple seconds to keep its speed in the air. Gar sat up a little, feeling his chest swell with intrigue, curiosity, and envy.

Could that bird feel the clouds it was flying through? What was it like up there?

A bump in the road sent him an inch into the air, and pain surged through his head as he came back down. He hissed, slinking backward until his tail and bum touched the back of the crate again. The throb returned to his skull, and he exhaled as he allowed himself to lie down, tucking his legs at his sides. It was going to be a long drive regardless of where they were going. Their ‘house’ was isolated. So he settled in and did his best to ignore the heat, his mind drifting to thoughts of flight and weightlessness. Of freedom.

* * *

It was night by the time they arrived at the motel. Gar had managed to get in a couple minutes of sleep on and off throughout the drive, always shaken awake again by bumps in the road or the sounds of the car doors slamming whenever Eddie and Bates stopped for breaks. His eyelids were still heavy, and he couldn’t keep his gaze focused on anything in particular. He lay silent in the crate, listening to nearby music. The aroma of some sort of food slithered through the metal bars and tickled his nose. His stomach woke immediately, reminding him just how empty and tired and hungry he was. It felt like he was withering in on himself.

A sharp sound scared him, and he tensed as one of the thieves smacked a hand on the top of his crate. He was dragged forward and out of the truck bed, claws scraping on the crate’s bottom when it abruptly dropped and caught again. The voice coming from above him was Bates. He was speaking in a language Gar couldn’t recognize, which told him that they were in a smaller town or village. It made sense; Eddie and Bates would usually ‘camp out’ away from wherever their next hit was. Best to get away with their loot as soon as possible and disappear.

Gar slowly pulled himself across the crate. He peered past the bars, eyeing the flickering neon sign, the silhouetted figures moving around behind dimly lit curtains. The crate swung in Bates’ hand as Gar was carried up a small flight up steps and down an open hall. He could hear another set of steps shortly behind them; those had to belong to Eddie. They moved down the hall for several steps before Bates stopped in front of a door. A key clicked against a lock once or twice. There was another, lower click, and Bates kicked the door open with the tip of his boot. Gar pushed himself back, so he lay in the center of the crate. He braced himself as Bates swung the crate back and forward again, releasing it. Gar morphed into a box turtle, withdrawing entirely into his shell as the container hit the floor and tipped back, hovering a moment before dropping to the carpet. His spine felt like it was vibrating as he poked his head out of the shell. He shifted back, scaled legs scraping against the crate as he wiggled to right himself. He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the light of the room.

Eddie and Bates moved around, tossing bags onto the floor and onto the two shaggy looking beds off to the left. Gar slowly rolled onto his stomach, tilting his head to peer out the bars above him. He’d been tossed under a window. The curtains were drawn, making it impossible to get a glimpse of the sky, but he already knew it was really late or really early. Either way, he knew the thieves would sleep for the majority of the sunlit day. They’d be nocturnal for a while, as they always were before and after a hit.

Gar lay motionless, watching Eddie and Bates as they unpacked necessities, conversed in whatever the language of the village was, and all around behaved as though he weren’t even in the room. This was nothing unusual. This was also a sign that he probably wouldn’t be getting a meal until after their job was done. His stomach twisted, reminding him just how empty it was, and he shrank further into the shadows of his crate.

Within minutes, Bates had downed a bottle of something foul smelling and taken to his bed. He snored like an elephant. Eddie sat on the edge of his own bed, taking a substantial drag from his cigarette and blowing the plume of smoke into the air. Gar squinted his eyelids half-closed.

He watched Eddie smoke and stare into the back of Bates’ head until his eyes ached, and his lids grew heavy.

* * *

He slept, but it was hardly a restful sleep. Off and on throughout the afternoon, he’d wake for one reason or another. Sometimes it was a strange noise. Sometimes it was a nightmare. Sometimes it was the unfamiliarity of it all--the crate, the room, the smells, and sounds. Gar could never get himself to adjust to these temporary locations. It somehow felt like it’d been both five minutes and several hours when Bates knocked loudly on the top of the crate, rattling him from a light sleep. The crate door unlocked, and Gar crept out.

Eddie exited the bathroom, strapping a holster around his waist. Both he and Bates had already dressed in dark colors, thick boots, and fingerless gloves. The pistol in Eddie’s holster glinted in the light, and Gar felt his stomach tighten. He shuffled to the side, allowing himself to shift into his human form, and sat at the foot of the bed, pressing his back to the cold sheets.

How many guards were going to die tonight? And for what?

Eddie snapped his fingers, and Gar pushed to his feet.

They exited the motel room in silence. Eddie and Bates both wore some old jackets to veil their firearms--even though the motel grounds were empty and quiet during their walk to the car--and Gar rode on Eddie’s shoulder in the form of a small lizard. They piled into the truck.

The thieves talked between themselves--again, in whatever the core language for the village was--and Gar remained silent and still on Eddie’s shoulder. The road was almost pitch black. It was open and spacious, with distant, looming shadows of trees and the occasional flicker of their headlights reflecting on an animal’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how long they were on the road, just that as his stomach was beginning to curl in on itself, he spotted city lights. Usually around this point--for more significant hits, anyway--they met up with a driver. Gar noticed there was no discussion about this, no phone calls. Either Eddie and Bates were confident they could pull this off on their own, or they weren’t willing to share a cut of their spoils. Guess he wouldn’t know until he saw what it was they were after. Either way, he was sort of relieved. Drivers were rarely any more kind to him than these two were.

The truck entered the city, and Gar scanned the mostly empty streets as they glided down the road. There was cement, here. The streets were smoother, and the truck moved as soundlessly as a vehicle its size could. After a while, Eddie pointed towards an alley, and Bates steered the truck into it. They took a series of slow turns before the truck rolled to a stop. Bates pushed the gear into park, and the two thieves slid out of the vehicle. It was all business, now.

Gar morphed into a small monkey, remaining perched on Eddie’s shoulder as the man knelt beside a sewer lid. Eddie wedged a crowbar beneath the heavy seal, grunting as he pushed his full weight into it and slid it to the side. He stepped onto the ladder and climbed into the black.

The smell was wretched. Gar felt his fur bristle, curling his tail in until it pressed against his back. Eddie snorted, swiping one wrist under his nose as he clicked on a flashlight. The underground walls looked almost blue beneath the glow, its surface glossy and blotched with darker shades of colors Gar couldn’t quite identify. He was thankful for that.

It was a long walk through the tunnels. Gar quickly found himself turned around; all the walls looked the same, the overwhelming stench of the place made it almost impossible to track which direction they’d come from, and he didn’t think to start remembering when they turned left or right until they were already several minutes down the corridor. This realization made him nervous. If anything happened to Eddie or Bates, and he had to escape on his own, would he be able to find his way back to the truck? Forget the truck. Would he be able to find his way out at all? A shudder ran through his body, and Gar shrank, adjusting his fingers and toes on Eddie’s jacket. The thief either didn’t notice or ignored him.

Eventually, Bates stopped them. They dug into one of their bags and produced a set of tools. Gar watched as they approached a path with a large, sealed off 'grate' for a door, and began to crack through it. Several minutes passed but the bars eventually fell forward. Bates caught them, grunting as he pulled them off to the side and set them against the wall. They stepped through the opening and continued.

After a while, Bates held up an arm and pointed to a ladder above and to their right. It led up to another heavy looking seal. Eddie nodded, and the two moved to the rungs. Bates went first, grunting as he planted his feet and wedged the toes of his boots into the sides of the treads. He pressed his palms against the sewer lid, expression strained as he huffed out a full breath. It took some effort, but the grate finally scraped upward and began to slide to the side. Bates took another step upward and shoved his hands through the opening, forcing the lid the rest of the way. Moonlight washed into the tunnel.

Once Bates pulled himself out of the sewers, Eddie scaled the ladder. Gar blinked a few times as they surfaced, and Eddie crept sideways until he was veiled by a series of large shrubs. The area--a garden of some kind, maybe--was dimly lit by roof lights. Gar inhaled, taking in the fresh, clean air, and immediately recognizing the scents of several plants. He also picked up on human odor, wrinkling his nose. This was clue enough that there were guards in the courtyard with them. They’d need to be distracted… or ‘taken care of’... before the three of them could move into the museum, itself.

Bates made a gesture at Eddie, who nodded, before ducking into the shadows to his left. Gar inhaled sharply as Eddie reached up and gripped him by his neck, pulling him off his shoulder and dropping him on the ground. Gar landed with relative grace, turning himself around. Eddie pointed towards the right path, and Gar nodded once before turning and scampering towards the shadows and spotlight. He ducked into some of the shrubs, keeping low and creeping towards the opening to get a better look at the area. There were two guards. One had a flashlight. The other seemed bored, toying with some kind of bright object in his hands. Gar shifted his weight, twitching his tail as he began to scan the environment around them.

If there was a way he could lure them into the darker areas of the garden without doing something that would entice Eddie or Bates to just kill them, he was going to do it. He didn’t have a way of preventing the guards on Bates’ side from getting injured.

Gar crept from under the bush, allowing his form to shift again into a small lizard. He skittered across the pavement, darting from bush to push. There was no doubt that one of the guards had seen him but opted to ignore the curious, harmless creature out for a midnight snack. He reached the high fence at the end of the garden, turning just long enough to steal a glance at the guards. They weren’t facing in his direction. He let out a breath, reverting to his human form.

He looked around, eyeing the area beyond the black iron fence. The outer region of the museum didn’t have much he could use to his advantage. The faint, red flicker of a camera light caught his attention, but its vision stopped several yards from his position. He guessed it must focus on that narrow alley between the garden and the front of the museum to keep an eye out for rascals, either trying to sneak in for free during day hours or… doing exactly what they were doing during night hours. Going through the alley to tip over one of the visible vases wouldn’t be an option. He couldn’t afford to be caught on film, even in the shadows. He could throw a rock… but that prompted the risk of breaking a window, which would immediately trigger an alarm. It would ruin everything. Eddie and Bates would be furious, putting it gently.

Gar shivered, biting down hard on his lip. He eyed the slow swerving camera again. Using that wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t risk breaking something, couldn’t risk getting caught on the camera. Which meant he was going to have to take the less reliable and dangerous option. He swallowed, ears lowering to rest against the sides of his head. The clock was ticking. He had to move now.

With a slow inhale, he lowered to the ground again. His form took the shape of a cat, and he padded to the bushes, weaving his way towards the back of the garden. They would be across from the entrance--on the opposite end--and he’d have to move quick and quiet once he’d gotten their attention. The lighting in the garden might be dim, but it would be enough to reveal the unusual coloring of his coat. That, alone, would end badly.

He slowed as he reached the fence railing, tail twitching and ears swiveling. Gar positioned himself so a dash to the brush would be swift. Easy. He shuffled his hind legs under his body, rounded his shoulders. Then, he let out a feral yowl. The unsettling sound rose over the garden like a weak, dying siren. He could hear one of the guards grumbling. Another cry, this one more strained than the first. They were clearly irritated with the idea of strays in the yard, lurking around to mess or kill the plants. Their footsteps thudded against the thin dirt path, and Gar launched forward. A bit of dust kicked up as he darted into the bushes.

The guards began talking between each other. He could see rays from their flashlights wave overhead, reflecting white against the plants and leaves and walls. Gar kept low, dashing from spot to spot each time the beam flicked away. He’d just reached the entrance to the museum when a hand snatched his scruff. A second one clamped around his mouth and held his jaws together. He squirmed for a moment but froze when Bates hissed sharply into his ear. Then he just went limp. He tried not to look at the arm sticking out from the other side of some bushes. The hand glistened scarlet in the light.

Gar heard something click, and Eddie shoved the museum doors open. The thieves ducked inside, and Gar braced his legs as Bates gave him a light toss to the floor. He landed soundlessly, trotting forward a few steps before changing to his human form, remaining crouched on the marble floors as he glanced up at the men. They were muttering between each other. Another language he didn’t entirely get. That was fine, though. He’d rather not know what they were planning on doing. He just wanted the night to be over. Just wanted to get back to the hotel and be done with the whole thing.

Bates tossed Eddie a bag and pointed at the side pocket. Eddie fished out a folded piece of paper, shoving it loose with his thumb as they crept forward and flipping it fully open with a flick of his wrist. He eyed it. Smirked. Nodded, and pointed down at Gar. “Yaro. Da ni.”

Gar nodded once.

Eddie made a signal to Bates with his free hand, and Bates ducked low as he took to the left corridor. Eddie wheeled and dove down the center, keeping his posture bent and sticking close to whatever display he passed without actually touching it. Gar ran behind him, his bare feet padding across the chilled marble. Stone touched by air conditioning always sent a weird sensation through his skin. Sometimes he liked it, sometimes he didn’t. Tonight it was leaning heavily on the latter.

The glass displays had an eerie, black reflectiveness to them. Most of the exhibits looked like vases, old masks, a wide variety of artifacts and treasures. Sometimes the moonlight leaking through the high windows and skylights would grace their surfaces, and Gar would spot flashes of gold or multicolored stones. His ears swiveled, catching another set of footsteps not far from them. This was expected; in a museum as excellent as this, it’d be a no-brainer to have guards both inside and out. He wondered what it was Eddie and Bates were after. They’d been spotted in past heists but had never been caught. Nothing in this stupid museum would be worth the damage they’d leave behind.

Eddie navigated them down the maze of corridors. Every several steps, he’d slow just long enough to get a better look at a display case. Gar could see the hunger in his eyes. The greed. The thief was calculating each object’s worth in a black auction, weighing on the odds of attempting to snag a little something extra. Gar swallowed when Eddie full on stopped in front of one case, transfixed by an old weapon made out of thick silver metal, strange but beautiful patterns skillfully carved into its blade. Eddie’s jaw opened, and for a moment, Gar thought he might reach out and touch the glass. This would, without a doubt, set off some kind of alarm. Gar could only hope that Eddie wouldn’t be that stupid. After several seconds, Eddie turned and moved on, and Gar exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

They finally reached the end of a long hallway, and Eddie gestured for Gar. Gar bit the inside of his cheek and sprang up, morphing into a monkey just in time to clutch the back of Eddie’s shirt and pull himself up and onto his shoulder. Eddie bent, giving a large display case a glimpse over. He’d be looking for wires, a tube sort of thing to indicate where this particular case was connected to an alarm. Several seconds passed before he located it.

Gar watched as Eddie pointed with one finger, ‘tracing’ it along the tube and pointing up. Sure enough, Gar could see it. The wires eventually found their way out of the wall just centimeters before it touched the ceiling. They then trailed down the length of the wall until they reached what could only be a power box. Gar started to move forward, but Eddie reached back and gripped the scruff of his neck. Gar curled up his legs and tail, wiggling just enough to attempt easing some of the grip on his ‘scruff.’ Eddie glared at him, and he went still. Then Eddie drew back and tossed him upward towards the segment of the ceiling where the wires and tubing came out.

The second before he would have impacted with the wall, Gar uncoiled. He threw his ‘hands’ forward and snared the wiring in his fingers. There was a slight drop--the wiring and tubing groaning as it adjusted to this new weight--and Gar huffed as his feet scrambled for purchase. Once he’d stabilized himself, he crept down the length of the wires, his side pressed to the wall and flattening his thin coat against his shoulder and stomach. Eddie was watching him. He wondered what Bates was after. He’d had enough confidence to know he wouldn’t need their help. That it was, apparently, more useful to have the ace up their sleeve on _this_ end of the museum.

Gar reached the power box and looked down. Eddie slid into the space directly beneath him, his smirk crooked and anything but kind. He dug into his belt and pulled out a ring of skeleton keys, ducking a little before chucking it upward. Gar stretched, snatching the keys out of the air, and drew back to the box. It took a second or so of fidgeting, but he got the key in the lock, twisting it and jostling it until he heard the distinct click. He pulled the panel open, searching for the wire he’d come to know. And, sure enough, there it was. Gar gripped it, drew it out, and stuck it between his teeth. He gnawed at it until the wire frayed. Something ‘bit’ his gums, the sting shivering through his skull. He spat the cable out.

Eddie let out a hiss of a whistle, and Gar turned to quickly scamper down the wire again. As he reached the edge, he sprang off and landed on Eddie’s extended arm. Eddie let out a low chuckle, gripping Gar’s scruff and dropping him on the ground.

The thief pressed his fingertips against the bottoms of the glass seal, slowly pushing until it began to lift and lean away to rest on the wall. Gar shrank away, reverting back to his human form as Eddie’s eyes grew wide and he reached into the case, producing two statue-looking things. They were old. They looked… kind of like humans, but… _wrong_. Eddie wedged them into the bag slung over his shoulder, quickly digging the remaining sculptures out. Gar swallowed, casting a glance over his shoulder. When he looked back, Eddie was pulling the final, wooden totem out of the case. This one seemed… --there was some kind of… metallic decoration bordering it. It almost looked like it was glowing in the dim light. Eddie inhaled, running his fingers over its ‘face.’ He looked over his shoulder. Then, he slipped the statue into a pocket in his long jacket. Gar’s eyes went huge. His breath stopped in his throat.

… Eddie was… he wasn’t just stealing from the museum. He was stealing from _Bates_ , too.

Eddie looked up. Their eyes locked. Gar went rigid, his legs prepped for running--his arms ready to fly up and guard his head. But Eddie made no move to strike. Instead, he raised a hand and brought a finger to his lips in a soundless, _‘shhhhhh.’_  Despite the silence, the slow pace, of the gesture… his eyes were dark. Danger seeped off of him, prickling its way through Gar’s skin like thousands of skittering, angry spiders. Eddie didn’t need to say anything. Gar knew what it meant. What would happen if he so much as _breathed_ about this.

Gar nodded. Desperately. The creeping smirk that curled Eddie’s lips made his stomach twist.

The thief closed the case and turned away. Gar hesitated, fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them in his hand, before falling into step not far behind him. He thinks back to all the times Bates had grumbled about specific artifacts not being at their hit locations when they should have been. Had Eddie stole from him all those times, too? How… long has this been going on--if it had been going on before this? It was planting a cold, cold sting in his gut. Bates was quick to anger. If he discovered--then assumed--that Eddie had been stowing away with half their loot…

Gar didn’t want to think about it anymore. He shook his head, swallowing as he padded down the corridor.

A flashlight beam cut through the air and Gar dodged ahead of Eddie to slide behind the display case in front of him. Eddie ducked behind the base of a statue. Gar’s ear twitched as he caught the curse Eddie hissed under his breath. He bit his upper lip, chewing at it. The look on Eddie’s face, the way he peered--scowling--over the stone platform… this guard was going to be taken care of. He _knew it_. He just knew it.

Fear and guilt tightened around his stomach. He ducked his head. He had to do something. He had to… fix the situation so the guard wouldn’t be hurt.

“Kijani.”

Gar looked up. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Eddie was smirking at him again. That horrible, savage kind of smirk he got when he intended to do something terrible. The thief leaned forward--just enough to point around the base of the statue but not enough to be caught in the light--and shoved a finger in the direction of the guard. “Kawo shi a nan.”

_Bring it here._

Gar stared at him. At first, he didn’t think Eddie was moving. Then he spotted the blade sliding free from the sheath hooked to his belt. The instant flicker of light catching steel. Every muscle in his body went taut. He stopped breathing. Went cold as ice.

Eddie wanted him to lure the guard to the statue.

Seconds passed as Gar continued to stare at the man, feeling the heat leave his bloodstream. Eddie stared back at him… and, slowly, he began to tilt his head. Gar watched as whatever humanity Eddie had faded out of his eyes until it felt like his pupils were all he could see. His expression grew darker than any night, and there was something hollow and mindless in the way he stared. Gar knew that look. It was the look that told him he wasn’t going to _have_ a choice. 

His cells thought on their own. He changed form to a small lizard, skittering around the display and scrambling towards the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to get the man hurt or killed. There had to be something else he could do. There had to be another way to get the man somewhere else without alerting the others or getting him hurt.

Gar reaches the wall, letting himself morph into a small monkey. The guard hadn’t spotted him yet. Once he did, Gar knew that one of two things would happen. The guard might panic--faced with an animal clearly diseased--or he might attempt to catch him for, strangely, the same reason. Maybe the guard would assume it would benefit him somehow. But as before, his time ran short. He had to act. Now. Or Eddie would for him.

He emitted a tiny, shrill squeak.

The guard turned, the beam of the flashlight leaping from the opposite wall to scan the floor until it pierced the space in front of Gar’s eyes. He flinched, shrinking backward and curling his tail to his side. He could hear an audible gasp. This was the moment of truth… --

As Gar shrinks back, the guard slides forward. He watches as the man ducks a little lower to the ground. It’s not an aggressive stance but a cautious one, which is sort of good news. Means he doesn’t intend to just blindly start firing at him. But it does mean he’s going to have to make a decision and move. Fast.

Gar bites down on the inside of his cheek. This will have consequences. He’ll be punished.

But… _maybe_ … Eddie will let it slide. Just this once. Now that Gar knew his second wind of thieving.

He turns and scampers down the corridor, in the opposite direction of Eddie. He can feel the man’s glare carving into the back of his neck like the knife he clutched, but Gar kept going. The guard is muttering something and jogging behind him. He couldn’t understand the language, but based on the frustration in his voice he guessed that maybe his odd coloring hadn’t been noticed yet. He had changed into a monkey that would usually have darker fur, so. With any luck, in this dim lighting, it looked black and not green.

Gar kept moving down the hall, continuing to lure the guard further and further away. The guard was speeding up. He zigged and zagged, trying to make it more difficult to see himself. Panic and nerves were setting in. Shaking this guard off his tail was proving to be a bit more challenging than he anticipated. The guard knew the museum. Knew where he was going. Gar didn't realize he was being herded until it was too late.

He wheeled down another corridor. A dead end.

Gar’s heart sank. He skidded to a stop, staring, wide-eyed, at the wall in front of him. There were two display cases, but it was otherwise bare. The corner of the room lit up--near white from the light and the pale paint. He knew he was trapped. He could risk shrinking--risk turning into a bug. He could get squashed or, worse, his abilities could be discovered. And that was strictly off limits. Even back when he’d been at the research compound, shifting was off limits when anywhere except specified rooms. If he gave himself away, it could be bad.

He whirled around to see the guard had moved closer as he’d been frozen in place. His hand was outstretched. It was a familiar sight--burned into his mind--of time and time again he'd be grabbed, tossed or otherwise disciplined. Gar shrank back and, without thinking, his form reverted.

The guard let out a shocked noise, reeling backward. The beam of light flew around the room and in a blink, he saw the terrified expression on the man’s face. Gar scrambled away. His back pressed against the wall behind him. Then he saw it. The glint of the pistol. It was aimed at his head.

“ _\--NO!!_ ” The word gasped out of him as he threw up his arms, dropping, sitting and curling against the wall, anything to make himself smaller. “No!! No, _no, tafadhali!_ ”

The guard shouted something. Gar forced himself to look past his arms. To see past the barrel of the pistol--to look for anything--anything he could--

\--his eyes locked onto something. A bright red box. Just a few centimeters tall. There was a handle on it. Just under the glass. An alarm. It _had_ to be an alarm. He pointed at it, arm shaking down to his fingertip. The gun clicked. “--Tafadhali!!”

The guard was barely visible behind the glare of the flashlight and the shield of his shuddering arms. But he could see the man turn his head in one sharp movement. Gar swallowed, repeating himself. “T-Ta--Tafadhali! Wezi!”

“--Wezi?” This got the guard's attention. His head snapped back to look at Gar. The gun didn’t lower. Gar choked on his own breath, pressing his lips together before nodding desperately. Through the glare of the flashlight, he could tell that the man was squinting at him. Could feel that his gaze was anything but trusting. Rightfully so. He didn’t know if the guard spoke English, but he also didn’t know how to string together the words and grammar in Swahili or Hausa or whatever was most common, here. Gar sucked in a breath.

“They’re here!” He hissed, pointing down the hall next. “Th-they’re stealing!”

The guard stares at him, but Gar can tell something’s worked. His brows have furrowed, again, but this time not out of lack of trust. A glimmer of hope twisted in Gar’s chest. “They’re--”

A gunshot went off, the sharp explosion ricocheting through the museum in a roar. The guard jumped. Gar gasped. No sooner had his spine hit the wall did the guard wheel and dive for the alarm. He broke the seal, grabbed the handle and yanked it down. Gar was already sprinting past him and down the corridor as the bell began to scream.

Panic blinded him. The shadows, the walls, all the displays and shapes blurred together. He didn’t know where he was--didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t know where Eddie and Bates had gone after he’d separated from them--after he’d disobeyed. He just had to get out of here. He had to--

…

Gar’s mind ran blank. He didn’t know where Eddie and Bates were. Which… meant. They might not know where _he_ was, either.

He could just leave if he wanted. Just break out the nearest window, make a run for it. He rounded a corner, his breath thinning. Where would he go? How would he eat--survive? But anything would be better than this, wouldn’t it? --He could figure it out. He wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. For that, he was willing to try.

A weak sob choked out of his throat. His direction turned, and he tore towards the nearest window, ignoring the light beams dancing across the walls and glaring on the glass. He didn’t care. Didn’t care what happened. He couldn’t _do this_ anymore--he couldn’t--

\--a hand closed around the nape of his shirt. Gar gasped out a shriek, and the grip tightened.

“Quiet!” Bates’s voice snarled, all but ripping Gar off his feet. The collar of his shirt dug into his wind pipe, and Gar gasped. He stumbled after Bates, his heart sinking, withering in his chest.

He’d missed it. His window to escape. It was gone. Nailed shut, like the one back at their hide-out.

Bates yanked him along, yelling at him. He couldn’t make out the words. They were just… _words_. The window faded away. Eventually, the blinding glint brought on by light against glass disappeared, and he there was nothing but the shouting, the gunshots, and darkness. Reality returned to him in the form of a truck door slamming. The engine roaring to life. And two pairs of empty eyes glowering back at him, already piecing together how his defiance would be dealt with.

* * *

They were back in the ratty motel room. Or, Gar was. He’d, once again, shoved himself into the back of his carrier, curled into one of the corners. Even in a cat's form, his face and chest were throbbing. He’d been ready for the consequences and accepted them… but at least that guard had survived. Hopefully. Had he obeyed Eddie's orders, the guard wouldn’t have had much of a chance.

Thankfully--despite whatever had triggered the gunfire back in the museum--their haul had been enough of a success to put the thieves in a decent enough mood. Their punishment had been less harsh than expected. Or… shorter, anyway. And they’d left him to celebrate with cheap drinks.

This meant they’d return more violent than usual or collapse on the bed instantly. Gar hoped with every fiber in him that it would be the latter. He was already tired and sore and… he just wanted to leave this stupid motel and go back to the stupid shack just outside their usual city. He was already dreading the pungent smell of the drink, slurred language and being stuck in the room with the men if they fell into an argument. Which they most likely would. Even when they were tired, a round of yelling was not uncommon before they slumped into bed and fall asleep.

Gar slanted his eyes to look towards the grating that separated him from the room just outside his crate. He could easily squeeze through it. Turn into an insect and be on the other side, free to roam the room, search for food so he could have a final meal before their trip back. Because they sure weren’t going to feed him after the stunt he pulled back in the museum. At least not for a few days. Wasn’t like they were going to need his help for a while, anyway.

But, no. If he got caught creeping out--especially while Eddie and Bates were hazed by the drink--things would be worse. _Much_ worse. The risk just wasn’t worth it. So he lay still. At least the warm, soft touch of his own fur brought him a little comfort. And the buzz of crickets from just outside the window helped to disrupt the thick cloud of silence hovering in the room.

After several more minutes, the peace shattered completely.

Gar heard their voices first. Loud. Laughing and incoherent. Their footsteps were a mess of thumps, and he even thought he heard the sound of one of them running into the hallway wall as they made their way back to the room. He felt his body go tense. The claws hidden away in his toes flexed, scraping the plastic bottom of the carrier. 

Someone thudded loudly against the door. Gar could hear keys fumbling. Bates’s voice barking at Eddie to hurry it up (probably) and Eddie’s voice snarling at him to try it himself if he was so much better. The lock continued to click noisily until the door swung open and Eddie stumbled inside. Gar watched as he hobbled into the room and gave the keys a toss towards one of the bed stands. Bates lingered outside; Gar could see someone was with him just outside the light of the room. After a few seconds, the burning scent of artificial aromas scraped his nose, and he grimaced. He’d never liked perfume… but that had to be one of the worst. Mixed with body odor, it was less than appealing.

Thankfully, whoever was outside stayed there, and Bates came in alone. Neither he nor Eddie paid his carrier any mind. Maybe he’d become just another object in the room. Good. He preferred it that way. They’d fall asleep soon enough. Maybe, then, he could get some sleep, too. The drink, at least, would ensure that they’d remain unconscious throughout the whole of the night.

Gar watched Eddie as he moved to the far side of the room and began to fumble around the dresser. He was probably looking for the remote. Bates, meanwhile, took to the beds and tore open a fresh pack of cigarettes. Gar felt himself deflate. Awesome. Now he’d have to tolerate another night in a room stained with that smell. He exhaled as the TV clicked on, and the air filled with what sounded like some sort of news story. He didn’t bother to listen to it. He wasn’t interested.

Bates lit a cigarette and shoved it between his lips, coughing around it as he began to toss their bags off the bed. Gar inhaled, resisting the desire to flinch as Eddie’s jacket hit the corner of his carrier. It banged loudly and hit the ground, slumping to the side.

Bates froze.

It took Gar a second or two to realize that he was staring at the jacket. His eyes were widening. And his face was turning a ruddy purple. Gar felt a surge of fear shoot through him. His fur bristled as Bates shoved away from the bed and marched to the article of clothing, his shin knocking against the side of the carrier. It forced it around, and Gar peered up through the bars as Bates lifted an object from the open pocket of the jacket. It was the wooden statue with metallic accents. The one Eddie had intended to keep for himself.

“Kini eyi?!” Bates snapped. Eddie jumped, turning away from the TV and stumbling a step or two back from the sharp movement. Gar held his breath as Eddie’s gaze drifted from Bates to the object in his hand. Then, his own features widened. He did something foolish.

Eddie _laughed_. He gave the statue a lazy wave, as though dismissing it entirely. “Ohunkohun!”

Gar felt himself cringe as much as a cat could.

“Oh!” Bates snorted. He lifted the artifact and shook it, taking two steps closer to where Eddie stood. “O ro pe o le ni awọn ohun-ini mi?”

Eddie chuckled, waving the growl off yet again. “Rara, rara.”

Bates let out a snarl, crossing the room in full to stand only a foot away from Eddie. He shook the statue again and growled a slur of words Gar couldn’t make out or understand. He wasn’t even sure he recognized the language Bates was using. But Eddie seemed to. Eddie snapped back, pointing at the statue. His demeanor was beginning to shift, too, from easy-going to a slow building rage. The air grew ice cold. Their voices became louder. Bates spat, lifting the statue.

“ _Kome ba?_ ”

He threw it. Hard. It hit the ground and cracked, splintering right down its center. Gar shrank back as bits of petrified wood rained against the sides of the carrier. 

Eddie sprang forward. There was a crunching sound as his fist collided with Bates’s face. Bates fell back, his ankles catching on Gar’s crate. The whole thing tipped, the sound ringing in Gar’s ears, and he shoved his hind legs against the wall behind him. The force drove him towards the grate at the front of the cage, and he shifted into a small mouse, letting the momentum squeeze him through the bars and onto the carpet outside. He rolled across it, scrambling to get back on his paws as a shoe hit the floor just inches from him. His toes dug into the carpet curls, and he dragged himself several paces away from the scuffle. Gar reverted forms, standing and raising both of his hands. The panic was overwhelming. It was choking him. He felt like he was going to throw up his own heart or lungs as he watched Eddie wrestle Bates onto the bed, both men shouting and clawing savagely at each other, a mess of flailing fists and knees. One of their feet struck a lamp, smashing it into the floor.

“ _Kuacha!!_ ” Gar yelled, clutching his fists at his sides. “Tafadhali-- **kuacha!!** ”

But they either weren’t listening or didn’t hear him. Bates slammed his knee into Eddie’s ribs, knocking him to the floor. Eddie crawled across it towards the closet as Bates coughed and shoved to his feet. He snatched the alarm clock off the bed stand, tearing it from the wall and hurling it. It clipped Eddie in the back of his head, and he yelped as he hit the floor. Blood trickled down his neck.

Gar sucked in a breath. His body locked up. His mind went blank. He couldn’t make sense of what he saw as everything seemed to stop and go utterly silent. Then, all at once, it sped up. Bates stormed across the room, drawing a knife from his back pocket. Eddie dragged himself the remaining way to the closet. Gar wheeled, morphing into a cat once more and diving for one of the beds. He scrambled under it as a knock sounded at the door.

There were voices from outside. Something heavy hit the ground by the closet. Eddie yelped. A click. Gar burrowed further beneath the mattress. Eddie was screaming. The voices outside got louder--urgent--alarmed. _Screaming_. He clawed at the carpet until he hit the wall and couldn’t go further. Gurgled screaming. Another click.

Then a single, explosive sound.

Gar jumped. He almost gasped--almost reverted back. He shoved himself hard against the rough wall as something weighted hit the carpet, and the bubbling groans and gasps continued. The voices from the other side of the wall were shouting, now. A fist was knocking rapidly on the wood, a set of footsteps took off down the outer hall. Voices seeped in from the other walls, too. Sound was everywhere. Everywhere. And the explosion still rang in his ears, still vibrated through every fiber in his body.

The gurgling faded.

…

…

…

Something hit the door. Gar went stiff. More fumbling with the lock. The door squealed open. Someone screamed. There was a rush of panic. From those outside, from himself. Had he been human, he may have vomited right there. But his form kept his stomach quiet. The hysteria continued from the other side of the wall, and the door slammed closed.

He didn’t know how long he was there. Everything felt like it blurred together--happening all at once and, at the same time, over a series of days. He felt heavy. Dizzy. He curled up. Closed his eyes. He just wanted to sink into the wall. Disappear into the carpet. Get away from here. Anywhere. Just _away_ from here. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. ... it _couldn't_ be real.

…

…

Voices.

A lot of them. Calmer than the last.

Slowly, he turned his head. There were several pairs of legs moving around the room. Muttering. The click of a camera. More muttering. He could see several people lingering around the area near the closet. It began to dawn on him that something smelled _awful_. The panic was rising. It felt like his insides were knotting up.

That’s when he realized that the door was open. … it was _open_.

It was a bad idea. He shouldn’t. But, slowly, he began to creep forward. He kept his body as close to the ground as he could manage, so his belly dragged across the carpet. His paws shook. The sheets of the bed brushed over his head and back as he slipped out, trying to make his way as carefully as possible to the door. Please don’t see him. He couldn’t breathe. Please don’t--

“--nini?”

He froze. His head snapped around.

A man dressed in a blue uniform and a bullet-proof vest was staring down at him. His eyes were wide. His face rapidly paling. Gar couldn’t move. And as more and more officers in the room turned--noticed--stared at him… he felt more and more detached from his body. Less and less like he was physically there. He didn’t know what to do. --He hadn’t done anything. --He just wanted to _leave_.

One of the men took a step towards him. Gar darted for the door. Hands closed around his sides, pulled him off the ground. He spat. Kicked. Clawed. He was released. As his body hit the carpet, he reverted. Shouts rang out around him. He sat up--scrambled backward and yelped as his spine hit the wall. Gar sucked down air as he stared up at the men. They stared back at him, the shock and fear clear as day on their features. They began to mutter among each other. Gar’s eyes flicked from person to person before something red and dark caught his eye. He looked down, and, immediately, he regretted it. Bates lay slumped over Eddie’s body. Neither of them moved.

Gar squeezed his eyes shut. He held his breath.

They were dead. He knew it. He could _feel_ it. And, soon, he would be dead, too. Why wouldn’t he be? After everything he’d been told. Everything that came with the strange color of his skin. Ailera. Diseased. They would hate him. They’d kill him. 

He waited.

And waited.

Waited.

...

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped. His eyes opened.

A woman had knelt before him. She was wearing something different than the officers--something red and white. Her eyes were warm. She was… smiling.

“Uko sawa?” She said, gently. “Unasema Swahili?”

Gar stared at her. He was cold. He was confused. He didn't know if he was still breathing.

The woman pressed her lips together. “... do you speak English?”

This registered. It was familiar. He nodded. Somehow, he nodded. Her smile returned, and she nodded back.

“May I pick you up? You look cold. We can get you a blanket and some water.”

He stared at her. When he didn’t move or speak, he felt her arms wrap around him.

The world faded in and out. He caught glimpses of faces, all wide-eyed, some with their hands over their mouths, others staring agape. He shrank away from them, from the whites of the room and motel lighting. The woman held him close. Whispers, the occasional shout. Flashing reds and blues and whites.

Gar found himself sitting on the edge of an open ambulance. The woman who had carried him from the motel room climbed in behind him. He sat, still and silent, as she rummaged around and returned to his side. A soft, warm and weighted blanket was moved over his shoulders, bringing him to feel a little more… anchored. A little more like this wasn’t a nightmare. That had all... really just happened.

It... was over.

Fingertips brushed his forehead, and it took him a moment to realize she’d removed stray tuffs of hair from his eyes. He looked up at her, blinking.

“Hello,” she said. She smiled, moving her hand to rest on his shoulder. “My name is Halima. ...what is yours?”

It was the first time he’d spoken his name to someone in… he didn’t _know_ how long. The first time his own name had formed on his lips since the day his parents had disappeared in the torrent. The day Eddie and Bates pulled him out of the jungle.

His lips moved mutely at first. Then, his voice clawed its way out of his throat. “G… Gar. … Garfield.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded her head. “You’re safe now, Garfield. … Nothing is going to happen to you.”

He stared at her. Then, he slowly looked away. Stared through the haze of motel lights, flashing police cars and the bleak glow from the moon.

Of _course_ nothing was going to happen to him.

It already had.


	13. Something Sour, Something Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =o=/ once again, a gentle shout out/thank you to the ever-lovely [greenesweaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenesweaters/pseuds/greenesweaters) for her headcanons regarding ajaya's nickname for roy and wally's favorite pokemon. hope y'all enjoy!

“Seriously, Gar. It’s starting to give me the creeps.”

Gar glanced over his shoulder, spotting Roy standing at the kitchen entrance. His hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets, Roy eyed Ellie as she crept across the counter toward him. She’d become much more confident on her own two feet in the past week. It’d be another two or three weeks until she reached fledging, but that didn’t hold her back from regular mischief-making. This round obviously involved making Roy as uncomfortable as possible. Or, maybe she just thought he was hiding goodies in his pockets.

“Her name’s ‘Ellie,’ dude,” Gar said, casting Roy a crooked smirk. “And if you act all scared of her, she’s gonna _really_ start messin’ with ya.”

Roy snorted. “I’m not scared of her.”

He took a small step to the side as she side-stepped closer and stretched out her head, tilting it toward the pocket closest to her.

Gar hummed a low ‘uh-huh’ as he pulled some water bottles out of the fridge. He stuffed them in his backpack. Ajaya strolled up to the counter and reached across it, plucking Ellie off the surface. Ellie croaked loudly and kicked her feet. Her ‘voice’ had deepened as she’d grown, and what was once a cheep was now much more guttural and… frankly, starting to get a bit eerie. Gar knew it’d only get lower as she got closer to being an adult.

Ellie went still as Ajaya tucked her into one arm and stroked her fingertips along the back of her head and wings.

“All evidence to the contrary, Arsenhole,” Ajaya said, popping her brows up as she walked away. Roy scowled after her and rolled his eyes. He joined Gar at the counter’s edge, shoving a couple more water bottles into the backpack pockets.

“I was under the impression it’d just be a few of us.”

“It is!” Gar said, glancing at Roy before ducking to open a cabinet.

Roy turned around, so he leaned his back against the counter, propping his weight on his elbows. “Uh _huh_. Guess it’s nice to know our definition of ‘a few’ is vastly different.”

“Whatever!” Gar straightened, leveling his ears as he dropped some large sandwich bags on the counter along with one of Ellie’s turkey basters. “Didn’t you tell us once that you were just gonna go ‘a few’ more rounds of Tetris with Ajaya and it took, like, an hour?”

Ajaya let out a loud cackle from across the room. Roy’s expression dulled to a lazy glare.

“Yeah, but you see, the difference there is: _shut up_.”

Gar smirked at him, dropping the turkey baster into the sandwich bag. He began to pack them into the backpack, scooting the other contents around to better fit them inside. Roy eyed the pack's side pocket, squinting. “... is that a camera?”

“Sure is,” Gar muttered, nodding. Roy huffed.

“That’s an old one. Haven’t seen one of those in a while. ...the hell did you get it?”

“Uuuh, Wally and I found it in this old… antique store? I guess?”

Roy raised a brow. “Huh. ...why?”

A small swell of warmth threatened to bloom in Gar’s cheeks, and he shrugged, snatching Ellie’s fresh towel off the counter. “I’nno. We got it back in, uh, August. --after I got back in town? Guess it was a welcome home gift or something.”

“... interesting.”

Gar nodded, shrugging again. He peeked in Roy’s direction out of the corners of his eyes, sighing internally as he realized the other had turned his attention elsewhere. Gar packed the last of what he figured they’d need out on the town, giving the backpack a light shake to let everything naturally fall into place. “--’kay, Ajaya. She should probably hop on in.”

Ajaya turned away from the OPs Room window and walked toward him. She shifted Ellie in her arms to hold her between both hands, then gently lowered her into the open backpack. “Does she actually like it in there?”

“I think so. But, uh, in a few more weeks, she’ll be able to fly around and stuff. Probably won’t need a hand getting around.”

Ajaya grunted, giving Ellie’s head a final pat before stepping away. “Vic said to meet him in the garage when we’re ready to scram. Kori’s already down there.”

“Rach coming?” Roy asked, pushing off the counter and rounding it. He smirked mildly when Ajaya sent him a glower. “Didn’t think so. Thought I’d ask.”

“Tempting as the possibility of Hallow’s Eve shopping, I don’t think the market was enticing enough,” Ajaya grumbled, elbowing the elevator door’s button. She sighed, a bit dramatically, and gave her wrist a dismissive wave. “Her loss. More candles, herbs, and stones for me.”

“That’s great, Pinkie.”

“ _Mmmm_ you know it will be when I can turn you into a toad.”

Roy tilted his head, raising a hand with his middle finger in the air. Gar swatted it down as he passed between them, tugging his backpack straps over his shoulders. “Cut it out, dudes. You know how Vic and I get with farmer’s markets. Good vibes only!”

“Then how did Arsenhole get invited?” Ajaya asked.

“ **Me?** You’re the--”

“ _Goooooood viiiiiiibbeeesss_ ,” Gar sang, swinging his arms in a mock ‘tap-dancing’ sort of motion before gesturing to the open elevator doors. Roy and Ajaya exchanged a finalizing glare before they stepped in, and he slid into the space between them.

The ride down to the garage was, thankfully, peaceful. Gar breathed a silent sigh of relief as he tried to ignore the still buzzing tension in the air, focusing on what lay ahead instead.

A farmer’s market was opening up in the eastern area of Jump City, just as it did every year. The plan was to meet up with Wally and do some shopping, maybe even dip into a couple Halloween shops to find some decor, costume ideas or anything that snagged their attention afterward. The market not only had a bunch of excellent produce and goods, but several of the vendors also sold fall-specific treats. That, alone, was always a highlight. October was seriously the best, and it'd only just arrived.

Anxiety fluttered in the center of his chest. This was going to be the first time he’d seen Wally since… well. _That_ night. When they’d gotten the photos developed and gone outside the city to look at the stars. When he’d realized how he’d started to feel toward his friend. Gar gnawed the inside of his cheek, drummed his fingers down the length of his backpack straps. It’d be fine. This was going to go totally fine. He just had to act natural. Act cool. No one would suspect a thing--especially not Wally. They’d just hang out, take some more fun pictures, have a good time… _cripes,_ he could already feel his face getting warm. The beat of his heart speeding up just enough to be noticeable.

He power-walked out of the elevator the moment the doors slid open, crossing the hall without hesitation and shouldering through the garage doors.

Kori looked up from where she sat, criss-cross, on the hood of the T-Car. Vic stood across from her, arms folded and leaning against his workbench. He tilted his chin upward as Gar rounded to the front and gave Kori a light high-five. “Y’all ready to head out?”

“You betcha!” Gar said, grinning.

“Wonderful!” Kori said, sliding off the hood. She jogged to the passenger door, waving to Roy and Ajaya as they strode into the garage. Gar felt his stomach drop a little as he realized Vic and Kori were the tallest two in their group, meaning that he’d have to share the back three seats with Roy and Ajaya. For everyone’s sakes, it’d be best if he sat between them.

_Awesome_.

He could tell they were thinking the same thing due to the way they were staring at each other, as though wordlessly daring one another to ‘pick a side’ of the car to sit on. Gar shook his head and crossed behind Vic, pulling the nearest back door open and sliding onto the seats. He scooted himself to the center seat and wiggled out of his backpack.

Everyone piled into the car and Vic entered a sequence of buttons into the dash. Within a few minutes, they’d passed through the underground tunnel and back up onto the mainland roads. Gar leaned forward enough to peer through the window past Roy, smiling as he watched the oceanside fly by, glittering under the sun’s touch. It was the perfect day for a farmer’s market. Cool, crisp, just enough of a breeze. Some of the trees were starting to speckle with yellows and oranges, too. The anticipation to jump out into it, feel the chill on his skin--smell that warm aroma of decaying leaves, apple cider, and a crazy assortment of pumpkin things--was already unbearable.

Ellie poked her beak out of the opening in the backpack’s zipper, and Gar watched as she worked it open. His smirk was slow-growing, and he started snickering as she opened and closed her beak, wiggling it about. In a matter of minutes, she had successfully poked her head free.

The city streets were bustling by the time they reached the market. Several booths, tables, and stands littered the sidewalks, and as Vic rolled down his window the rich scent of apples, pumpkin and freshly baked goods filled the car. Gar breathed it in deeply, letting his chest swell with the breath. Though they tried to hide it, he could tell Roy and Ajaya had done the same thing. A calm filled the interior, and Vic’s reflection in the rearview mirror grinned as he steered toward the designated parking lots.

“Gonna be a good market this year, y’all!”

Kori squeaked, clapping her hands and leaning forward to plant her palms on the dash. Gar smiled as she craned her head to look over the stands in their view.

“There are more booths than before!” She exclaimed, gasping. “Does the farmer’s market grow with every year?”

“Sure seems to be,” Vic said, nodding. “Not that I’m complainin’!”

“Oh my gods,” Ajaya muttered, tilting her head to peer out her window. “We passed, like, four parking spaces already. You’re not going to park in the very back, are you?”

“‘Course I am.”

“For _fuck’s sake_.”

“I don’t want anybody door dingin’ my baby!” Vic said, shooting her a look through the mirror. She scoffed. Roy sent her a side-long glance, one brow raising.

“The walk across the whole parking lot won’t kill you.”

Ajaya glared at him, tilting her head. Gar felt a sharp chill surge through his bones, and he held his breath as a dangerous shimmer lit up behind Ajaya’s eyes. “You’re fortunate there’s something cute and defenseless between us, Harper.”

“Uuuh.” Gar blinked. “Much as I like to have my natural, human adorable-ness noticed, Ajaya, I’m not--”

“I was talking about the bird, genius.”

“--Oh.”

Ellie tilted her head. “ _Gwauh!_ ”

“Y’all chill back there," Vic said. "Goes for the death omen, too.”

“The witch or the bird?” Roy muttered. Ajaya straightened, her lips peeling away from her teeth as she started to lean over Gar. But he shoved one hand into the side pocket of his pack, producing the camera and thrusting it toward her.

“--let’s get a picture by the big pumpkin carving display!!” He said quickly, his smile wide and possibly desperate. “I-it’ll be an awesome first farmer’s market picture! And we can check out the designs--take bets on which one we think will win?”

Ajaya stared at him. The weight of her gaze was crushing, like water pressure in the depths of the ocean and just as unrelenting and cold. Somehow, he maintained his smile even as Vic pulled into a parking space and shut off the T-Car. Gar’s ear swiveled as Roy’s door opened. Once it shut again, Ajaya exhaled through her nose. She snatched the camera out of his hand, carefully turning it between her own fingers and dropping her stare to look it over.

“If you don’t want me in the shot, you could just say so,” she muttered. Gar’s ears snapped upward, drooping soon after.

“Huh? -- _no!_ \--no, that’s not--I didn’t ask ‘cuz of that!” He said, holding up his hands. “I asked ‘cuz you’re, y’know, taller than I am. So your arms are longer, and you’d probably take a better selfie of us than I would.”

She stared at him for a long moment again. Difficult as she could be to read, Gar thought he noticed something slacken in her expression. The muscles around her brows, her nose, and lips, all seemed to relax. “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

Gar bit down on the corner of his mouth, shooting a glance to the others outside the car as Ajaya began to turn away. Vic and Roy had moved a couple steps away; it looked like one of them had retrieved a map or brochure of some kind, and they held it between them. Kori, meanwhile, had floated a few feet off the ground, probably in hopes of getting a better vantage point. Gar exhaled and turned around, reaching to lightly grip Ajaya’s arm and stop her from opening her door. “--hey.”

Ajaya tensed, pulling her arm away from him, and he shrank back.

“Sorry--I just… --ignore Roy, okay?” He said, frowning. “We’re glad you came along! This is gonna be a lot of fun.”

She stared at him for a second. Then, she huffed, turning away and shoving her door open. Gar’s shoulders sank as he watched her march toward the others, and he sighed, scooting out of the car and tugging his backpack onto his shoulders.

Ajaya had pulled out her phone and seemed to be texting as he jogged to the group. Kori swept down to land in front of Vic and Roy, clasping her hands and bouncing in place. “--Come! Let us explore! I wish to see what tricks and treats they have today!”

“You got it, Anders,” Roy said. He unfolded his arms and gave a wave toward the market. “Lead the way.”

Kori laughed, taking toward the market at a jog. Gar pocketed his hands and chuckled. He fell into step beside Vic, letting his ears rotate and twist toward the various city sounds.

“You think West is already here?” Vic asked. Gar felt his shoulders hitch. He was quick to realize how defensive that reaction had been, as well as how stupid; Vic couldn’t know anything. They were just expecting to meet up with Wally at some point. Play it cool, Logan. He worked his shoulders into a shrug, hoping the gesture would veil the initial reaction from any question.

“He’s either been here for hours, or he’s running late,” Gar said. He snorted. “Zippity-doo-dah-dudes don’t seem to have a middle ground, y'know?”

“You’re telling me,” Vic said.

“He’s here.”

Gar turned his head, glancing in Ajaya’s direction. She was pocketing her phone.

“I dunno where, but--”

“--candy apple?”

The gust of warm air came right as his voice piped up, and Gar squeaked as he jumped along with Ajaya. Wally, in his usual fashion, had shown up in the space between them. It took the three of them a moment to realize that he had, in fact, extended a large candy apple to Ajaya in an offering.

“Jeez, West,” Vic said, turning. “Think you could be a little more discrete?”

“You expect me to walk _all the way_ across this huge parking lot to reach **your** space on the other side of the city at a _normal_ pace?” Wally asked. He smirked playfully at Vic as he received a scowl for an answer. Ajaya let out a ‘ha!’ and plucked the candy apple from Wally's grasp.

“See, Vic?” She asked, twirling the treat in her fingers. “Told you it was ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vic grumbled. “Whatever.”

Wally laughed. He turned to Gar, smirk softened to a broad smile. “Hey, Gar! How’s Elle-Belle doing?”

“--Great!” Gar said. He’d somehow been hoping that Wally would both notice him and totally not even see him standing with the others. His chest already had that familiar and stupid tightness in it; the sunlight just felt that much hotter. “She, uh--she’s here, actually! Baby’s first farmer’s market.”

“Hey, awesome!” Wally said, leaning a little to peer over Gar’s shoulder. Gar dropped his eyes and rotated his shoulders, providing a better view to the side of the backpack that Ellie had wriggled herself a peephole. She must have recognized Wally immediately because she began to croak and click her beak. Wally chuckled, waving. “How ya doin’, Ellie?”

“Are you guys coming or what?” Roy called from across the street. “Kori’s gonna see the whole thing before you even get to the entrance at this rate!”

“I will not!” Kori laughed, delighted.

Wally laughed in return, throwing a salute in Roy’s direction. He turned to the group, poking his thumb toward Ajaya. “You guys go ahead. Ajaya and I will catch up.”

“Sure thing!” Vic said. He gave Wally a thumbs up and headed to cross the street. Gar smiled, mirroring Vic’s gesture, and trotted a couple steps to reach his side. He cast a brief glance over his shoulder in time to see Wally turn to face Ajaya, and she continued to sway the candy apple in her fingers. Wally being around would probably help her ease up. Maybe he’d be able to get Roy off her back, too. He was good at that sort of stuff. Really good.

Gar nodded to himself, rotating forward again. Vic bumped his shoulder with his elbow, muttering under his breath. “Harper say something back there? Saw you get in the middle before Ajaya could pull his eye out and use it for a spell.”

“Yeah,” Gar said, frowning. “He’s, uh. In a bad mood today, I guess.”

“Ain’t he always?”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Thanks for trying to involve her.” Vic sighed, scratching at the organic side of his jaw. “It took some, uh. Convincing. To get her to come out today, and I don’t want her to walk off regretting it. Y’know? S’been three years, she should be able to chill with us and not feel like we’re all watching and waiting for her to try something funny.”

“Sure! No big. I want her to have fun, too,” Gar said, turning to walk sideways and smile up at Vic. “Sooo, I should probably hang by the pumpkins and stuff. Be there and ready to dab right before she snaps the picture.”

Vic smirked wryly, letting out a snort. “That’s one way to secure your ticket to hell when she steals your soul.”

“If it means she’ll have fun, dabbing is a sin I’m willing to commit.”

“Just get your ass to the pumpkin display, already.”

Vic planted a firm hand on his shoulder and shoved him forward. Gar let himself stumble, laughed, and winked over his shoulder before picking up a jog and entering the market.

The stands blurred by, each already companied by a potential customer or three. He saw gourds and pumpkins and corn and a variety of crafts--all homemade--set for display. His pace slowed momentarily to suck in the design of some quilts, lips forming a silent ‘wow’ as his eyes followed the elaborate work. Someone actually sat down and made that with their own two hands. He couldn’t imagine mustering the patience to do it, himself. _So cool_. He jogged on, breathing in the crisp smells of apples, spices and a blend of comfort foods and drink.

There were already a couple of clusters of people gathered around the pumpkin carving stand. He had to lean, duck and crane his head to count the entries through the visitors, but he managed to get a total of thirteen. _Heh_. Appropriate. Now he just had to wait for Ajaya to find him. Hopefully, she would… as in, hopefully, she stuck around to find him. Or that she’d go looking for him at all. Cool as these gourds were, he didn’t want to spend their whole farmer’s market standing around here. He'd want his camera back, too. There was another progress shot of Rachel's tattoo on there, and he wanted her to have the whole set once it was finished. Maua and Lulu were doing a killer job.

Gar rolled his shoulders, letting one of his pack’s straps slide down his arm so he could reach around to the zipper. He tugged it upward, allowing Ellie to have a better view of her surroundings if she wanted. And, of course, she did. The raven shoved her head through the opening, warbling as she began looking toward any matter of movement and sound. There was more than enough of it. Gar laughed a little, and that drew her attention to him.

“Sure is a lot going on, huh, silly bird?” He asked. She blinked at him and clicked her beak. He could see her wiggling, and he gently tapped the tip of her beak with his finger. “No. Don’t even try to escape. You can’t fly just yet, and I don’t want ya getting trampled--”

His head suddenly pulled up and back, and everything went dark. Gar sucked in a reflexive breath, feeling a jolt of energy he could only describe as ‘electric’ course through his skin. His cells wanted to react--to what he now realized was a pair of hands over his eyes--but he thought quick enough to prevent them from reflexively swapping to something that would shock or sting. This did little to quell the rapid beating of his heart or the panicked tightening of his ribs. His nose twitched, trying to grab the intruder’s scent through the fog of the market. That’s when he felt the warm breath against his ear.

“ _What_ … is your name?”

She spoke in a bad English accent. A terrible one. But that was a Monty Python joke for you. Relief washed over him, and he felt the tense muscles in his body go lax. A full smile began to work its way across his face.

“I’ll trade you a name for a hug,” he said, wiggling both his ears. “Like--a real one. Not a face one.”

The hands pulled away, and he twisted around to see Bette as she rolled her eyes and laughed. They threw their arms around each other, hugging tightly and swaying from side to side a little as she bent back, lifting him an inch or two off the ground before dropping him back down. Gar grunted as his toes hit the pavement, and he bounced back once to get a better look at her once she pulled away. “--Dude!! Why are--what are you doing up here?!”

“I swung into Central to crash at Gene’s for the month,” she said. “She’s cramming for a cosplay convention or something this weekend. I was ducking out to do some window shopping, bumped into Wally. He told me where he was going, soooo, I decided to tag along! I can stay out of bae’s hair AND chill with you cool cats.”

Bette winked, scooping her blonde waves out of her eyes and over her head, so they swept into place behind her neck again. Gar snorted and raised his ears. “Gene’s cramming again, huh? --what’s she making this time?”

“Uuuh. Would ‘some anime character’ be too vague?”

“Seriously?”

“I thought so.” Bette sighed, tipping her head up and to the side. “Anyway. She’ll be distracted for a bit, my poor Princess Peach. ...I should bring her back some toadstools. --you think we could find some around here?”

Gar shrugged, his lips curving into an amused smirk. “We can totally try. I gotta stay here ‘til Ajaya finds me, though. I asked her to take some selfies with me in front of the pumpkins.” He thumbed at the display over his shoulder. Bette rocked onto her toes to peer over him (even though she already had a few inches on him), her chin tilting up and her eyes widening.

“Ooooh, cool!! You guys taking bets on a winner, too?”

“I mean. We could.”

“You _should_.”

“Ehhhh.”

“You don’t even have to use money,” she pointed out, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “Could just be like… hey. If my pumpkin wins? You gotta buy me one of those sweet, _sweet_ ciders over there. Let me guzzle that glorious spiced apple milk.”

Gar barked a laugh, cuffing her arm. “Dude.”

“I want to sweat apple drizzle by the time I’m done.” She pinched her pointer finger and thumb together, waving her hand in a gesture that read ‘exquisite!’. “Instead of salt, it’ll be cinnamon.”

“ **Wow**.”

“I know. Great, right?”

“That sure is a word for it.”

Bette’s lips curled into a wide smirk, and she opened her mouth. She paused, eyes lifting to look over his head again, and the smirk spread into a broad grin as she threw an arm into the air, waving it. Gar rotated his upper body to look behind him, and he spotted Wally and Ajaya making their way through the crowd toward them.

Both stood out like bright, colorful beacons. Ajaya may have been wearing mostly black, but her pastel pink hair--worn long and pulled into an elaborate braid over her shoulder--was a splash of something unusual among all the oranges, yellows and reds. Wally, of course, wore his signature warm colors with a dash of autumn vibes. The sunlight hitting his hair made it light up like amber held before an open fire. Both of them were laughing.

Wally looked so alive in that simple moment; the sincerity in his smile and the glow on his face--Gar almost wanted them to keep walking by so he and Bette wouldn’t take away from any freedom the two were feeling. He swiveled forward again, digging one of his thumbs beneath the strap of his backpack and distracting himself by ‘studying’ one of the nearby pumpkins.

“Kane. Hey.” Ajaya spoke up first. Gar could hear her platform shoes slow to a stop not far from where he’d left Bette standing. “Wally warned me you were gonna be in the area.”

Bette chortled. “‘Warned,’ huh? Thanks, Wal.”

“Her words, not mine,” Wally said, laughing. There was a small pause before he spoke up again. “Seen anything you like, yet, Gar?”

Gar swallowed, forcing the lump in his throat down. He turned and grinned brightly. “Uh. Try everything. This year’s market is already stellar, dude! I mean--check out the pumpkins!”

“They’re pretty spooky, I’d say!” Wally said. “I like the one sticking their tongue out. Looks silly.”

“I hate silly,” Ajaya muttered, though there was just the slightest curve of a smirk on her lips. Bette huffed, stomping one of her shoes and bouncing in place.

“--C’mon! Gar said we were gonna take selfies-- _and_ , holy shit, I just realized you have a whole bird in your backpack.”

“Huh? --OH! Yeah, that’s Ellie,” Gar said, lifting one arm and peering under it. Ellie’s head was still poking out of the zipper, her eyes fixed on the newcomers. Bette, specifically. Gar smiled, looking back up at her. “She’s, uh. A bit of a long story. Kinda.”

Bette blinked, letting her head tilt to the right, so her hair washed over her shoulder. “... Mmmokay, but that’s a long story you owe me. Rain check for now. Pin it on the wall.”

“Sure, sure.”

“You losers gonna get in this or what?” Ajaya asked. She’d grabbed Wally’s forearm and tugged him over to stand in front of the pumpkin display. He was already working himself into a position that might give the appearance that a pumpkin was perched on his shoulder if the camera was angled correctly. Gar opened his mouth, but his breath cut off as Bette hooked one arm through his elbow and jerked him forward to join in. He squeaked, stumbling forward and grunting as his shoulder collided with Wally’s arm. Wally jumped, and he laughed as Gar smiled up at him.

“--whoops! Sorry, Gar.”

“--Heh! N-no problem,” Gar said, almost wincing at the pitch of his voice. Bette squeezed in on his other side, sandwiching him between the two. The flash of panic was brief but just long enough to flatline his brain for a second or two. He totally missed whatever Ajaya had just said, despite having heard her voice.

“Are you?”

Gar’s ears snapped upward, and he turned his head to look at Bette. “Huh?”

“Are you gonna get Ellie out for the pic?” She said, amused.

“Yeah! She’s old enough to stand on your shoulder, right?” Wally asked, glancing at him. “I know you said it’d be another week or two until she could fly, but you guys have to raven-proof the Tower now that she’s kinda mobile.”

“Vic can try, but he won’t succeed,” Ajaya muttered.

Gar straightened. “--Oh! Yeah! Yeah, she totally can--hang on.” He wiggled his arms and shoulders, trying to let the backpack straps slide down and away. This, of course, meant he’d just shimmied against both Bette and Wally’s arms. He wanted to give himself a good, swift kick to the shin.

He gently set the backpack on the ground and unzipped it, reaching in to scoop his hands under Ellie’s body. She squirmed and flapped her wings a couple times, now fully alert and curious about her surroundings. Bette gasped, clasping her hands and even clapping them twice as Gar lifted the raven and eased her onto his shoulder.

“Haha! Oh my god, she’s super cute!” Bette exclaimed. Ellie turned her head toward Bette, croaking loudly. Bette recoiled, her eyes widening. “--oh. ...okay, maybe not _super_ cute.”

Gar snorted, keeping one hand gently pressed against Ellie’s wing. “Way to be rude.”

“What? I thought she’d… y’know, ‘caw’ at me or something. Not… whatever _that_ was.”

“You’re thinking of crows, Bette. Ravens don’t make that noise.”

“Oh my gods, are we taking this picture or not?” Ajaya said, gently shaking the camera. “Get in this shit.”

Gar side-stepped closer to Wally. Bette started to follow but paused as Ellie leaned toward her. She shrank back a little, huffing out a breath and lifting one of her hands. “Hey, uh. --Wally, is it cool if Elle chills on your side? She’s giving me a serious stink-eye right now.”

“That’s fine!” Wally said, chuckling. Gar reached up, gently guiding Ellie around the back of his neck and onto his other shoulder. The raven scratched at the collar of his shirt and skin, croaking and giving his wrist a couple quick love nips. She did let him move her over, though, and didn't fuss when he leaned against Wally again to squeeze into the shot. Gar hoped the warmth in his cheeks and ears wouldn't show up in the picture later. Maybe he could blame it on wind chill or something.

The camera clicked, and they fell out of the bundle, Gar gingerly peeling Ellie away from Wally’s head where she’d found a tuft of hair to preen. Ajaya passed the camera back to Gar, and he wedged it into the side pocket on his backpack.

“Okay!” Wally said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Where we off to, now? There’s a lot here to explore.”

Ajaya folded her arms, slanting her posture as her brows rose. “You haven’t visited every food stand already?”

“ _No_. … Maybe.”

“So, yeah, you have.”

“Yeah.”

“We can’t take you anywhere.”

“Maybe we should catch up to the others?” Bette suggested, grinning as she shoved her hands in her jacket pocket. “Think Wally said, uuuh--Kori, Vic and one other guy? --Roy, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Ajaya muttered. Wally chuckled, a little uneasily, and scratched at his jaw.

“Yeah, Roy’s here, too. I, uh--I’ll see what I can do about cheering him up.”

Bette blinked, squinting. “Cheering him up? He upset about something?”

“He's a lost cause,” Ajaya said, sighing and rolling her eyes. She gripped the cuff of Wally’s sleeve and started to drag him further into the market. “C’mon, you lame-brains promised me some fun.”

As Gar started after them, Bette swung one arm beneath his, hooking their elbows and pulling him forward. He smirked and let her guide him toward the stands, shifting his other hand to secure Ellie on his shoulder. Her talons burrowed into the fabric of his shirt and some of the exposed skin beneath his collar, but it didn’t hurt much.

It took a couple minutes to navigate the market. Luckily for them, Vic and Kori were pretty easy to spot in a crowd. They stood a little more than a whole head above the rest, and sunlight reflected off the cybernetic half of Vic’s head. From the look of it, they’d found a stand selling fresh, homemade jam and jellies. Roy was holding a jar in the space between him and Vic, and Gar’s ear twitched as he picked up on the argumentative vibes on both their voices. Kori, meanwhile, looked entertained as her bright green eyes shifted from one to the other, her lips curled in the smallest of smiles.

“--Look, I ain’t gonna say it again,” Vic was saying as they reached the three. “Plum beats grape. _End’a story_.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Grape knocks plum outta the park,” Roy said, his deadpan expression betrayed by the mocking tone in his voice. Vic sighed, rolling his eye. The irritation left his face as he spotted Gar and the others, grinning lopsidedly as he turned to face them.

“Eyy--Bette! How’re you doin’, girl?”

Bette pulled away from Gar, giggling as she sprang forward to hug Vic. Gar smiled and pocketed his hands. Ellie crept a small way across his shoulder, and he turned his head to watch her as she craned upward, her stance inquisitive and alert. This was her first time being in the city outside of the backpack. It had to be a lot to take in--so much to see and hear and inspect if he’d let her. Ravens were intelligent birds; they were capable of problem-solving, playing, sometimes even using tools. They enjoyed learning. Enjoyed playing tricks. All that considered, it was probably best that, for now, she was still anchored to his shoulder and unable to fly. She’d be able to experience the farmer’s market while staying in his field of vision, and he could keep her from causing any unnecessary trouble. Ellie trilled, her feathers lifting before she shook them back down. Gar smirked at her and reached up, scratching the space just beneath her chin.

“Yo, Gar!”

Gar’s ears twisted, and he looked up. Vic thumbed over his shoulder. “Roy, Wal and I are gonna check out the home-baked goods and a couple’ hand-craft items. Wanna come with?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna see if they have a honey stand!” Gar said, shrugging the shoulder Ellie wasn't on. “Farmer’s markets always have the best honey, and I wanna get some for Rachel if I can.”

“Dude, yes!” Bette whispered, turning to him with wide eyes. “I should get some, too!! Gene and I are total sluts for butter and honey on toast. --do you guys ever just crave that shit?”

“I sure do crave that mineral,” Gar muttered. Roy shot him a look, pointing at him.

“ **Don’t**. Even go there.”

“That’s an old-ass meme, Gar,” Vic said. Kori and Wally were laughing. Gar chimed in, ducking his head when he felt his cheeks start to warm. Stupid… giddy bubbles in his chest. He looked back up, snorting at himself.

“Oh!!!” Kori exclaimed, straightening and clasping her hands. “Ajaya, I just remembered! There was a stand that Roy and I passed earlier--they had products of beauty that are made in their own homes! I saw a lip balm made of beeswax, and an assortment of herbal soaps, and--”

“--Kori,” Ajaya interrupted, staring at her. “Why the hell are you still talking to me when you could be showing me where this godsend of a stand is?”

Kori blinked once before the smile on her lips grew. She let out a laugh and stepped forward, taking Ajaya’s hand in hers and dashing away with her. Gar smiled as they dove into the crowd, and he was pretty sure he caught a laugh from Ajaya, too. _Good thinking, Kori_.

Vic chuckled, nodding once.

“Welp. Looks like they’re set. Howsabout we meet in the middle once we’ve done our shopping around? Grab a late afternoon snack? I’ll kick off a group text to keep y’all posted. Sound good?”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Wally said, producing a thumbs up. Roy let out a groan of a sigh and stepped past Gar and Bette, gently shoving Wally’s shoulder to usher him into walking alongside him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re corny.”

Vic smirked after them. He looked to Gar and the two bumped fists before Vic lumbered off behind the pair of gingers. Gar turned to Bette, nodding once and pointing down the west street. “Ready to go on a honey heist?”

“Hell yeah!” Bette said, bouncing her brows. They turned together and headed down the sidewalk.

It wasn’t too far of a stroll. They passed a couple stands selling other homemade goodies, from donuts to fresh dog biscuits and handmade toys for cats. Bette snagged one of the toys to take back to Central for Imogene: a puffy, sparkly thing made of string and fuzz.

“For her rat babies,” she said, pinching it between two fingers and waving it in his face.

Gar swatted it away with a laugh. “Yeah! Think Star and Lilac’ll like--” he had to cut himself off as Ellie launched herself at the toy with a croak. Gar ducked, scooping his arms under her as she flapped to no avail, and grunted when her wings slapped him in the face a few times. Bette stared as he straightened back up and eased Ellie onto his shoulder, then she let out a loud cackle.

“Wow, okay. I’ll take that as a solid: you chose a good toy, and I want one, _give give give_.”

“Heh, sorry,” Gar said. He smiled sheepishly, letting Ellie nip and peck at his fingers. “I think she’s startin’ to get land fever. Ready to fly, but her feathers aren’t there yet.”

“You’re gonna have a hell of a time once she gets in the air,” Bette said, smirking. She took a step backward before turning on her heel and continuing down the sidewalk. Gar shook his head and followed behind.

They found the honey stand without any further distractions. Gar passed over a couple of bills, casting the vendor a broad smile as he accepted the two jars of golden honey. Fresh, local honey always looked so crazy good. He knew calling it beautiful or practically unreal would earn him a raised brow or an odd look, but, hey. When the sunlight hit the jar just right? Or when you let it fall off a spoon? There was something pretty wild about it. He carefully fit the jars into his backpack as Bette bought a large jar for herself and struck up a chat with the vendor.

As Gar straightened up, easing the backpack onto his shoulders once again, he glanced across the street to peer down the crosswalk to the next street over. It took two seconds to pick Vic out of the crowd--he seemed to be talking to another vendor about what looked like oven mitts, maybe some fresh ingredients--and a moment or two longer to find Wally and Roy. The latter had found himself a cafe table to sit at, and he had a white cup with a thin wisp of steam trailing out of it. Wally stood beside his chair, hands in his hoodie pockets. They were talking. Laughing every couple seconds. Both looked relaxed as ever.

Ellie churred, ruffling her feathers and giving his ear a nip, and Gar reached up to idly scratch her chest.

His ears twitched and swiveled for a moment, but he gave up on trying to get a read on what they were saying. Over the city’s voice, the conversations flooding the air from vendors and civilians, it’d be too overwhelming to try separating them from the crowd. Roy was speaking. He looked a bit smug, but that was nothing all that new. Wally’s smile was smooth and sweet, and he looked a little sun-flushed. It blended with his freckles, made his blue eyes pop. Gar knew that if he swapped his eyes for an eagle or a hawk’s, he’d be able to see that blue from where he stood across the street. He rolled his lips together. Roy said something and Wally barked a laugh, one Gar was able to hear above the hustle and bustle of the market. He felt a warmth swell in his chest, and he inhaled a little as though to try holding onto it. He may have succeeded, because the activity around him suddenly felt distanced, muted. Though he still couldn’t hear whatever conversation Roy and Wally were having across the way, the voices encompassing him dulled. It felt… both kind of intrusive and… well, he couldn’t look away.

Wally ducked his head, shaking it and rubbing at the back of his neck. Gar watched him pace a few absent steps from Roy, who leaned to rest his elbows on his knees. It took a couple seconds for Wally to look back up at Roy. With the distance and constant flow of people passing between the two and Gar, it was impossible to read their lips.

A man approached the two of them, map in one hand and the other gently holding the hand of who Gar assumed had to be his daughter. When she turned her head to look out at the street behind them, one finger wedged in the side of her cheek, Gar could make out the gold Wonder Woman emblem painted on her cheek... right under some cat whiskers to compliment the pink on her nose. Gar chuckled to himself. She must have been indecisive at the face painting booth.

The father extended his map and Roy pushed up and out of his chair, side-stepping to get a better look at it. They pointed at the map, talking between each other, and the daughter seemed to quickly grow bored. But, always attentive to kids, Wally crouched down to reach eye-level with her. Gar watched as Wally started talking and brought one hand up to poke at his cheek, probably asking about the face paint she'd chosen. The girl nodded, and Wally held up a hand. She took a small step forward and gave his palm a firm pat, and he laughed, shaking out his hand with a playful little wince. The words _'wow! you're strong!'_ were just clear enough on his lips.

The swell of affection and warmth that engulfed Gar was something he wanted to melt into and stay in forever. He could feel all his hidden edges softening, his shoulders relaxing, his expression gentled, and the last of the breath he’d sucked in and held left him.

“What’re you looking at?”

Gar jolted, almost yelping as he whirled around. He thought just fast enough to reach up, and secure Ellie’s place on his shoulder before the force of his turn sent her flying--and not the way she would have wanted. Bette had moved to stand beside him, a second jar of honey in hand and a puzzled, questioning expression on her features. Heat flooded his face, and his brain scrambled.

“--what?--um, _nothing!_ I, was just, _uh_.” His lips moved mutely before he found his voice again. “--I zoned out.”

“Thaaaat wasn’t a zoned out face,” Bette said, the skepticism in her voice clear as day. “I’ve _seen_ your space face. The babadook could be standing right in front of you, decked out in his pride gear, and you wouldn’t even notice. …--wait, are you **blushing?** ”

Before he could even think to open his mouth, she turned her head to follow where his gaze had been. Gar felt every muscle in his body go taught. He didn’t dare look away from her despite every voice in his head demanding that he find something else to look at--something to feign as a distraction or call attention to. But he couldn’t listen. He just stood and watched as Bette’s expression grew confused, and she tilted her head. Then, her eyes widened. Slow, at first. Then in a snap.

Gar wanted to wither into the ground. Just to turn into an ant or a worm and vanish altogether.

Bette looked at him, her voice somehow both dropped to a whisper and raised to a squeal. Her smile was massive. “-- _Holy shit_.”

“-- _Bette_ \--”

“Holy **shit** , you’re crushing! You’re totally crushing!!!” Her voice was raising, now.

Gar swallowed, his mouth and throat dry. “Bette, d--”

“That’s why you were acting all shy in front of the pumpkins--don’t THINK I didn’t hear your voice crack--and you were blushing back at the jelly stand, too!”

He could see a couple heads turning. Looking in their direction.

“Bette, _please_ \--”

“--don’t even try denying it, Gar, you were shit at faking before we started dating, and--”

Before he knew what he was doing Gar reached out and snatched her wrist. He used his other hand to brace Ellie as he tore forward through the crowd, dragging Bette behind him and away from the opening between the streets. Ellie croaked loudly as he nearly clipped someone’s shoulder with his elbow; Bette was squeaking some protests and questions, but he couldn’t begin to make sense of the words. He just kept moving, pulling her on and on until, finally, he found an isolated section of sidewalk in front of a closed shop. He released her wrist and turned to face her, inhaling shallowly through his nose. Bette grimaced, kneeling long enough to place her honey jars on the ground and rubbed at her wrist, starting to glare up at him. But the anger sank away as she blinked, confusion taking its place.

“What the hell was that about?”

“What was it about??” Gar hissed, shooting a glance up and down the street to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. He pressed his lips together and took a small step closer, throwing a hand out to his side. “Bette-- _look at me_ \--I don’t--I don’t exactly have a secret identity, you know!”

She blinked again, brows knitting together. “Uh… yeah? So? You never have.”

“So, it means people… --people know how Beast Boy feels about things. Y'know? Local celebrity or hero or whatever, Beast Boy? People--people use the internet and--and they talk and gossip and spread things and make jokes and--”

“--oh my god, are you still closeted?” Bette asked, her voice lowering again. “Because, holy shit, I had _no_ idea, I'm sor--”

“--no!” He pressed his hands over his eyes and tilted his head back, letting out a full breath. “No, it’s not that--I don’t care about that.”

“Then what _is it_ , Gar?”

He stayed still and quiet. Then, he dropped his arms, letting his posture slouch a little. “I don’t… --I don’t want someone tweeting something. And… and him… --I don’t want him finding out. Not like that. --I don’t… I don’t want him to find out.”

“You… don’t want him finding out like that or… you don’t want him finding out? At all?”

Gar’s eyes lowered to stare at the pavement between them, and he hugged his arms. After a few seconds, he shrugs, exhaling through his nose. “... at all.”

“ _What??_ Why not?!”

“Because it’s… --it’s weird.”

Bette huffed, even stomping one of her feet. “Gar, what the fuck? It’s not weird for you to have a crush on a dude--”

“It’s not that,” he said, exasperated. “I’ve had those before.”

“--Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“ _Bette_.”

“--Then **why** is it weird?”

“Because they were all _strangers_ , Bette!” He looked up at her, crestfallen. “I-I never even introduced myself to most of them--they were… just… --people I regularly saw in the park! Or--or played beach volleyball with--or talked to while I was waiting in line at the movies--I dunno! Just short crushes or whatever that came and went. -- **we** barely knew each other before we jumped into things!” He opened his mouth, closed it, and huffed as he shook his head and looked away. “Wally and I have been friends for years, now. He… he _knows_ me.”

The words are met with silence. Gar can feel a buzz in the air between them--high energy, confusion, racing hearts and minds. Ellie flicks her wings, plucks at the collar of his shirt with her beak. After what felt like hours, Bette spoke up again.

“Gar, I … I’m sorry, I don’t. I don’t get why that’s a bad thing.”

He was quiet. One of his hands found Ellie’s head, and he rubbed a finger through her feathers as his shoulders sagged. “Because… because when you’re strangers, you can… y’know. --Ignore each other or walk away and stuff. It’s not awkward. There's no... history or friendship to screw up.”

“Gar, this is _Wally_ we’re talking about,” Bette said, her voice having grown more gentle. “He’s literally one of the chillest people I know. Even if things did get awkward, he’d make it right. --and he’s good at that, too--like, holy shit, his recoveries are smooth as butter. I know he loves hanging out with you--and he knows how fun you are, and--”

“--and he knows how easily I make a mess of things and how stupid I am. He… he knows what I did. He watched it.”

“... _Gar_ … what… what happened with Rouge was--”

“--an accident. I know. But that _doesn’t change anything_. It doesn’t bring her back, and it doesn’t make it not my fault.” Gar could feel his expression weakening. He shifted his jaw, opening his mouth as he turned to face her again and froze. Something in her eyes had both darkened and ignited. She wasn’t blinking. He stared at her a moment longer before pressing his lips together, forcing himself to swallow. “... what?”

“Did Mento feed you bullshit all summer?” Bette asked. “ _Again?_ ”

He felt his stomach drop. “Bette, that’s not--”

“ **Did he?** ”

Gar stared at her. He looked away. Bette inhaled, her voice acidic. “I swear, I am gonna _ram my foot so far up his arrogant, self-righteous ass_ that the stick that’s been lodged up there since his conception is gonna **pop** right outta his mouth and I’ll wear him like a new pair of--”

“--Bette, _please_ ,” Gar whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “I don’t--that’s not _important_ right now--just. --Just, _please_ , don’t--don’t make it even more obvious to Wally that… --please?”

When he opened his eyes again, she had her hands planted on her waist. The burn in her eyes had dimmed. She was studying him, clearly miffed. Several seconds of silence passed before she blew a breath through her lips, some of her waves floating away from her face. She shook her head, looking down. “I don’t get why you put up with the shit way he treats you.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Gar said, frowning. “And... he’s my _dad_ , I can’t--”

“He’s your dad on _paper_ ,” Bette interrupted. Gar felt the hair on his neck and arms bristle--his back snapping straight.

“--Yeah, and Rita’s my _mom_ **on paper** , what’s your _point?_ ”

“--My POINT, Gar, is that who gives a _shit_ about that?” She looked at him sharply. Her nails were burrowing into the skin exposed by her crop-top, pressing crescent moons into her sides. “You of all people should know _none_ of that makes a family. --Remember when I was fresh into the game and you told me about Trigon? You _**never**_ call him ‘Rachel’s dad’ because he was a total _prick_ who wanted to destroy everything in his line of sight! You call your team your family and none of them are ‘legally bound’ to you on paper or related to you--you _love_ them and, more importantly, they love YOU. So what the **fuck** is it about Steve the sleaze that makes him an exception?!”

Gar’s lips peeled from his teeth as he looked away from her, flattening his ears against his scalp. Ellie fluttered her wings to maintain balance on his shoulder as he folded his arms, a low growl vibrating through his ribs. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Because you don’t TALK to us, Gar!!!”

Bette stepped around him, so she stood in front of him. He quickly angled his eyes downward, but that didn’t stop her from leaning closer as she held out her open palms. “We’re not brick-headed! We all know something’s going on--you aren’t fooling anyone! How can we _get it_ when you don’t tell us anything!? When you keep insisting and insisting that nothing is wrong when whatever it is is obviously eating you from the inside and draining you and-- _what_ \--you just expect us to stand around and _watch?!_ **Fuck that!** You don’t deserve to be treated like shit--not by Steve, not by anyone!”

“You don’t know that,” Gar muttered. Bette huffed loudly.

“Of _course_ I don’t, because you never tell us anything!! ...But I know _you_ , Gar. And I know you need to stop kicking yourself over what happened to Rouge.” He could see her expression weakening out of the corner of his eyes, and her voice softened a little. “You didn’t mean to kill her, and I know you never wanted to. I know you’d never go out of your way to hurt _anyone_.”

A thick, sour lump swelled in his throat. In that moment, he could see Tara’s face clear as day in the shop window beside him. Devastation, pain, fear, and rage carved into the strained curve of her brows, her lips. The heartbreak in her eyes. He dug his fingers into his biceps to keep them from shaking.

The silence lingered between them for a few seconds longer before Bette sighed. She was still, then she reached out and touched his upper arm. “... look. I didn’t mean to suck all the fresh vibes outta the air like a good mood vampire. It’s… --we hate seeing you like this, Gar. All of us. We wish you’d… let us in with whatever’s happening so we can help.”

Gar nodded absently, shrugging one shoulder. Was it dismissive? Yes. But he didn’t have enough energy to keep arguing the topic anymore. She must have been in the same ballpark because she didn’t try to coax a verbal response out of him. Instead, she retrieved her honey jars and wiggled one of her arms under his, hooking their elbows and guiding him toward the street. He let himself be pulled along, his arms falling out of their fold. Ellie tucked herself into the slope of his neck and shoulder.

Bette didn’t speak again until they’d re-entered the crowds, and she leaned forward just enough to glimpse his face, a small and wavering smile on her lips. “Hey… you’re okay?”

“I’m breathing,” he answered.

She snorted, glancing away for a moment before looking at him again. “S’a bit dramatic.”

“ _Heh_. That’s cute coming from you.”

“Okay, fair. You can be dramatic every now and again but don’t step in on my turf too much. ...seriously, though. If… I got too heavy-handed back there, you can--”

“--it’s fine, Bette.” Gar slowed his steps, rotating a little to face her. “Really. ...I know you guys want to help. And… --and that means a ton to me. A lot. I… --I just need… time to think about it. Everything’s been moving so fast since I got back--and… I dunno. It kinda feels like my head’s spinning. I’m not even an owl right now, heh!”

The joke’s weak and falls flat on its face, but Bette smiles anyway. She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Uh huh. ...okay, though. Whenever you’re ready. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said. He hoped it wouldn’t take long for her to forget it.

They wandered through another section of the market--more window shopping than actually shopping--until Vic sent out a group text to meet in the central plaza. It wasn’t too far of a walk, and they were the second group to arrive. Roy kneeled beside the table Vic had claimed, going through a small parcel, and Wally was sit-leaning against the table with two bags in hand. Soon as he spots them, he grins and perks up, raising a hand to wave them over.

“Find your honey?” He asked, pointing at Gar’s backpack. Gar opened his mouth, but Bette beat him to it.

“ _Oh_ , he found his honey, alright.”

Wally’s grin became lopsided and silly, and Bette laughed. Gar wished the earth would just open up right under his feet and swallow him whole. He could turn into a meerkat and tunnel his way out when he was ready.

“Good to know,” Wally said. He turned around to gesture at Roy and Vic and, as he did, Gar shot Bette a needling glare. She kept her gaze up and away from him, cheeks puffed out in a mock display of innocence. He quickly looked forward again, forcing a smile back onto his face just as Wally turned to them and Roy looked up. “We found some cool mugs!! Vic got some new oven mitts for himself, and his grandparents--and Roy got his hands on a sweet batch of home-baked pumpkin donuts.”

“ _\--Fuck you!_ ” Bette cried. She pulled away from Gar and bolted toward Roy, who was smirking and lazily waving an orange box with one hand. “Where did you get them?! Let me see! --I gotta get some for Imogene!”

Gar pocketed his hands. Ellie pecked his hairline, nibbling at a few stray strands and the beginnings of his sideburns. He slanted his gaze just enough to watch her as Bette, Roy and Vic began to talk, and he almost didn’t notice Wally as he set his two bags on the plaza table and walked toward him. Gar looked up, managing to maintain his smile.

“Soooo, what’s your haul looking like?”

Wally shrugged, side-stepping to stand beside him. “Got a couple mugs for myself and Aunt Iris. An apple cider mix for her, too, ‘cuz she loves that stuff. You?”

“Uuuh, a jar o’honey for Rachel and another jar o’honey for me,” Gar said. His smile grew a bit sheepish. “That way I don’t get into hers so much when I want some tea. ...now I just… need to get my own. Tea. So I’m not drinking her whole supply of that one… uuh. Whatever it is.”

“Should probably ask her what it’s called in exchange for the honey,” Wally said. He gave Gar a light elbow in the shoulder, and Ellie croaked at him, flapping her wings. “--Whoops! Sorry, Elle.”

“S’okay, silly bird,” Gar muttered, reaching up and gently scratching her chest. As Ellie sank into his neck again, Wally glanced over his shoulder and rotated back around, leaning toward Gar.

“Hey,” he murmured, just above a whisper. Gar blinked, letting his ears swivel forward to face Wally in full. He could see each and every freckle that dusted Wally’s nose, cheeks and even the curves of his ears. A couple splashed around his collar. --Gar looked back up, stopping himself from breathing.

“Huh?”

“I peeked at Pokemon Go while we were shopping around. Looks like every gym in the area is claimed by Team Valor,” Wally said. He shifted his eyes from side to side, peering over his shoulder again for emphasis before looking at Gar again, lips now curved into a mischievous little smirk. “What say Team Instinct moves in while the Gym Leader’s distracted?”

Gar stared at him. He could feel a smirk of his own curling the corners of his lips, and he lowered his chin. “Dude. _It’s on_.”

Wally grinned, nodding once, and turned back to the others. “Gar and I are gonna grab a couple cups of fresh cider!” He said, thumbing over his shoulder. “We’ll catch up with you guys in a bit! That cool?”

“Sure, sure,” Vic said, waving a hand at them. “I’ll letcha know when the girls get back and if we’re gonna look around some more.”

“Sounds good!” Wally said. He bounced his brows at Gar and turned, heading out of the plaza. Gar ducked his head and followed, trying to pretend like he hadn’t seen the smile Bette sent after him.

They found the first of six gyms scattered around the market street with relative ease. There were only three pokemon left to guard it, and they made quick work claiming the space for Instinct. The second gym was even easier; only two pokemon stood watch. Once again, they sent the two back to their trainers and moved on to the next target.

“Man, I really need to make time to play this more,” Wally grumbled as they crossed the street. He swiped his thumb across his phone screen, furrowing his brow. “I’m starting to run outta high power Pokemon to leave at the gyms--and to use in battle! How the heck do you do it?”

“Uuuh. Well, I don’t… exactly have classes or an upcoming internship, for starters,” Gar said, chuckling. He scrolled right and popped a new egg in the incubator, looking up as he closed onto the main screen. “Sometimes I just get super bored and keep the app open while I’m wandering around. There were a couple gyms back in Michigan that I hung around on and off, too, to get some ‘training’ in. I think my phone battery hates me now. Or it would if Vic hadn’t tinkered with it.”

“Remind me to ask him about that later. …--hey, what’s this one?” Wally held out his phone, and Gar craned his head to get a better look at the screen. He smiled.

“Oh! That’s a Ralts! Dude, you should catch it! They’re usually pretty hard to find.”

Wally let out a low whistle. “Wow. I’m really behind with these games. Never would have known.”

“S’cool,” Gar said, shrugging. He paused a moment before glancing up again. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever asked you before! Which one’s your favorite? --Pokemon, I mean.”

“Mmmm,” Wally hummed. He tapped the top of his phone against his chin a couple times, poking out his bottom lip. After a few seconds, he grinned. “--Jolteon.”

Gar gave him an easygoing smirk. “Electric-type. Shoulda guessed.”

“--Hey! It’s not just that!” Wally pointed at him, paused, then shrugged. “Okay, that’s a big piece of the pie, but! They’re also, like… --cute… dog-cats--y’know? All the Eevee things are. This one just happens to be sparky. I like it.”

“Heh! Okay, okay, ya got me, there,” Gar said, chuckling as he looked forward. His steps slowed as an idea crossed his mind, and he quickly brought up his list of Pokemon, swiping through them. Sure enough. There it was. “--I have a Jolteon! Do you want it?”

Wally looked up, blinking widely. He opened his mouth, saying nothing at first, then stopped walking and turned to face him. “--Wait, really?”

“Sure!” Gar said, grinning. Wally smiled, and Gar felt his chest almost flutter. “--I’ve already had, like, three! So, uh, no big or whatever! Even if you don’t play all that much, it’d still be pretty sweet to have a favorite on board, y’know?”

“What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“I know I’m behind on the games, Gar, but I know you can’t just pass Pokemon around. Y’gotta trade for them,” Wally said, tilting his head to one side. “So? Anything specific?”

Gar blinked at him. He shrugged, almost forgetting Ellie was on his shoulder. “Um! I dunno! Anything’s fine.”

“Oh, come on! --What’s something you don’t have?”

“Uuuh.” Gar hesitated before scrolling through his pokemon again. He felt oddly panicked at the moment, unable to focus on the critters he was thumbing through. There was no way he’d be able to list the ones he didn’t have right off the top of his head, either. --But he did know a few due to locations. “--Mr. Mime, Farfetch'd and Kangaskhan. You can only get them in certain places and, uh, I haven’t been. But, really, Wally, you could just throw me a Caterpie, and that’d be--”

“--what places?”

“ _\--Wally!_ ”

“Gar?”

He sighed, warmth spreading through his cheeks to his ears. “Europe, Asia, and Australia, I guess? But you d--”

A gust of wind muted his voice, and Gar blinked several times as he was left staring at an empty space in front of him and a couple scattered leaves rolling across his shoes. Ellie flapped her wings and croaked, looking around as she righted herself on his shoulder.

“ _That--!_ ” Gar hissed, glancing around before stepping backward on the sidewalk until his backpack touched the building behind him. He glanced up and down the street, but no one seemed to have noticed the speedster’s swift disappearance, or the small gale he’d left behind. Gar pocketed his hands and huffed, letting his head drop against the brick. “... Ellie, why did you let me tell him where to find Pokemon?”

Ellie flicked her wings, angling her head toward him. “ **Auwgh!** ”

“That’s a lame excuse, Ellie.”

She nipped at his nose, and he snorted as he turned his head away. “--Hey!” Ellie clucked her beak and crept to the slope of his shoulder, scrutinizing the sidewalk. A minute or two passed before he finally grew curious about what she might be looking at, and he’d just started to tilt his head over and down when another gust of wind tickled his skin. Gar looked up. Wally strode toward him, a wide grin on his face and wiggling his phone in one hand. “Got’em!”

“Dude,” Gar started to say. He stopped, blinking at the image of the Kangashkan on the screen. “You didn’t have to--”

“--Hey, it’s cool,” Wally said. His grin softened, and he swiped to the side. A second Kangashkan. “I went ahead and picked one up for me, too. Even Steven?”

Gar stared at him, clamping his jaw shut and inhaling, slow, through his nose. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. He just… _felt_. All of it positive. All of it overwhelming. Before it had the chance to swallow him, he fumbled his phone back into his hands and tapped into the app, side-stepping to Wally’s side as he pulled up the trade option. It took maybe a minute, but it felt so, so much longer. All he could focus on were how his hands felt sweaty--the jittery warmth bubbling through his chest. His thumbs were shaking--just enough to be noticeable--as he scrolled through his pokemon and selected the Jolteon for trade, and he hoped Wally was too distracted with figuring out his own selection to see.

He stepped away as the trade completed, smiling despite his nerves at the Kangashkan as she sprang onto his screen. “Heh… --look at that. So cool.” Gar looked up, his smile softening. “Thanks, Wally.”

Wally shrugged, brows raising in a way that assured it was no big deal. “‘Course, dude! I should be thanking you! I just got my favorite pokemon and a Kangashkan! …--oop.” Wally lifted his phone just as Gar’s vibrated between his hands. They both looked at the screens at the same time, and Gar winced a little.

> [rust bucket, 4:41pm]: not to rush y’all but idk how much longer kori, bette and i can keep ajaya and roy from killin’ each other. Could use ya, west.

“Looks like we should head back,” Wally muttered, frowning as he pocketed his phone. Gar’s expression fell a little as Wally’s grew more firm, and he stood still as the speedster turned on his heel and started toward the plaza. Gar hooked an arm over Ellie and bounced into a jog. She slapped him in the ear with one of her wings and he grunted, but he kept pace until he was back at Wally’s side. Wally’s expression had eased again, but Gar already knew the whole… the situation between Ajaya and Roy was. Well. Exhausting him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure Kori made sure Ajaya had a lotta fun scoping out the place,” Gar said, putting on a light smile. “And, hey! We still got a lotta ground to cover after we snag a snack. --I could take a picture of Roy with my camera, and after it’s developed, we can give Ajaya some darts to toss at it!”

Wally sputtered a short laugh, quickly pressing a hand over his mouth in an attempt to smother it. He cleared his throat, turning his head to give Gar a lopsided smile. “I know she’d appreciate the gesture, Gar, but we prooooobably _shouldn’t_ encourage this little… feud.”

“Yeah, I know. …--I wouldn’t worry a lot about it, though, Wally.”

“Hm?” Wally’s smile sank a bit, and his brows furrowed. “... what do you mean?”

Gar shrugged, pocketing his hands. “I know it’s been, like… three years and stuff, but Roy’s usually across the country with his own team, y’know? She’s been around us a lot, but he’s… still. Um. Uneasy, I guess. …--I know it’s not, like, the same situation, but when we were still a new team and stuff, I was kinda spooked by Rachel.”

Wally’s brows rose slowly in an unspoken question, and Gar let out a huff.

“Yeah, I know, shocker. But it wasn’t _that_ kinda spooked, it was… --it’s not like we sat around one night and exchanged tragic backstories over a buncha s’mores, but we were all at least a little willing to talk about… _something_. Rachel wasn’t. We didn’t know much of anything about her until after, um… I did a little more… digging than I should have. Heh.” He smiled awkwardly at himself, pulling one hand free of his pockets to gently scratch Ellie’s neck and chest. She gave his fingers a series of loving nips before going still. “... Ajaya’s not all that chatty about her stuff, either. ‘Least not with us. Roy’s… trying to be careful, I guess. He just really _sucks_ at doing it.”

“... huh.” Gar looked up to see Wally had turned forward, a small, but sincere, smile on his face. “That’s… very astute of you, Gar.”

Gar pressed his lips together, quickly looking forward and down. He shrugged. “--heh! Um. Thanks! I think.”

“I'm serious,” Wally said, turning to him. “S’kinda what I’ve been leaning towards, myself… but. It’s really comforting to hear a second opinion and basically get the same assessment. Means that if I can just get them to relax around each other, they might actually get along. So thank you.”

Gar’s smile threatened to grow, and he burrowed one of his fangs into his bottom lip. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He just nodded, quick and short, and kept walking.

They reached the central plaza to find Ajaya, Kori, and Vic seated around one of the tables with their spoils from the market. Roy and Bette stood off at the edge of the square, and, by the look of it, Bette had turned up her chipper personality. She was clearly trying to lighten… something up. The mood? Atmosphere? Create some kind of distraction? Gar didn’t know. He just knew that she spotted them as he and Wally approached the table, and she gave him a quicksilver smile and a wink. He ignored her.

Gar helped Kori stuff several bars of soap, some kind of face wash and lip balm into his backpack, after, of course, he’d argued with Vic about whether or not Ellie should be loose in the T-Car. Once they’d minimized the number of bags they’d be stuffing in the trunk, they made their way out of the market. Gar slowed his pace enough to cast a glance over his shoulder, smiling as some of the stands began to pack up, and the street shops began to glow with light. There'd be another round of market activity tomorrow but, for now, the streets belonged to the nightlife.

His ear twitched at the thump of footsteps, and he turned his head just as Bette hopped to walk beside him. She grinned, waggling her brows and giving his shoulder a gentle clip of her elbow. “So. You guys have fun?”

“You’re going to milk this as much as you can, aren’t you?” Gar asked, glancing ahead to ensure they had enough distance between them and the rest of the group to not be overheard. Bette shrugged, widening her eyes as she did and letting her shoulders and arms drop back to her sides.

“What else am I gonna do with it? Sit on it? Lock my lips and throw the key over my shoulder? I don’t think so. ...I'm always losing my keys.”

“I’m just… so happy to hear that, Bette.”

“I know, right?… --seriously, though. Asking tease-free, now.” She looked at him, expression bright and inquisitive. “You had some fun? Did it lighten the mood a bit after I Sparta-kicked it into a black hole?”

Gar smiled weakly, glancing at her and chuckling as he looked forward again. “You didn’t _Sparta-kick it_ … you drop-kicked it.”

“Fair.”

“Yeah, we had fun. ...we, uh. Kicked some Valor dudes outta a couple gyms, Wally saw a Ralts, and I traded him a Jolteon for a Kangashkan.”

Bette blinked, leaning back a bit before righting herself. “A Kangashkan? I thought you could only get those in Australia. Was Wally an Aussie for a mission or something and had time to catch'em all?”

“No. He… ‘dropped in’ just now.”

“... --no way.” Bette took an extensive stride so she’d be a step or two in front of him. Her whole expression was open and rounded, her smile beaming. “He went all the way to _Australia_. To catch you a Kangashkan.”

Gar stiffened a little. That fluttery feeling was back, and despite the cooling air his face practically burned. “--it’s--it’s not a big deal, Bette. He could lap the planet in, like, a second if he wanted to.”

“And he went to _Australia_ to catch a goddamn Kangashkan. _For you_.”

“--Bette, he’s _Wally_. He… --he got one for himself, too. He woulda done that for anyone,” Gar said, sighing loudly.

Bette’s eyes narrowed. Her smile shrank but remained on her lips, and even though it was smaller, now, it hadn’t lost a hint of brightness. “Mmmmm _hm_.”

“Just… please, Bette, just leave it. It’s not a big deal. We traded pokemon. People do it all the time.”

“ _Mmmmm_ **hm**.”

“Please stop.”

“You’re no fun, Logan.”

Gar snorted as Bette let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. They were entering the parking lot, now. Vic had already pulled ahead with Roy, and Kori had fallen into step with Ajaya and Wally, the three of them speaking enthusiastically about something. Gar’s smile softened as he watched them, and he exhaled a slow, calm breath.

Bette hummed, poking out her bottom jaw.

“Well, if this DOES pan out, and you and Wally DO start dating--”

“Bette--”

“--yooou better tell him he owes me a solid ‘thank you.’”

Gar blinked, glancing at her and squinting. “Huh?”

Bette tilted her chin up, her eyelids half-closing as a natural, sugar-sweet smile edged her lips. “Because if it weren’t for me, you’d still be a _shit_ kisser.”

She laughed as he cuffed her shoulder, drowning out the shrill sound of his squeak.


	14. Mágoa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter that didn't take 3 months to write? madness! 
> 
> dudes, we're almost at GtGL's first anniversary! thank you so, so much for sticking around for a whole year. it truly does mean the world to me that you've taken the time to read, kudos or even comment. it's encouraging and special, and i sincerely cannot express how much i appreciate you coming along on this journey with me. so thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and i hope you continue to enjoy this story. c: you're awesome!

The sun had gone down hours ago, and Gar had watched the last of its rays creep their way across the OPs Room floor until the fiery glow of the red carpeting dimmed to near-black. Outside the window, across the bay, the city lights glittered late into the night until, little by little, they began to vanish. Stars came out in their place, and the crescent moon hung clear in the sky. Fog leaked out of the forest, trailing down the hillside in slow, twisting tendrils of gray and silver. He stared at it in a trance-like state, deaf to the chatter coming through his headphones and blind to the flashes of color and movement on his laptop screen.

He should call Rita back. ...he should apologize to Steve. It wouldn’t be earned, but maybe it would make things easier on her end. He’d been out of line talking back like that, anyway. It hadn’t been the time or the place, and it’d been disrespectful.

...but Steve _shouldn’t_ have done that. It didn’t matter if they were on a mission or not. He’d been doing it for too long, and Gar knew it was hurting Rita. Hurting his _mom_. The fact that it was only happening when Cliff and Larry were elsewhere was an undeniable red flag. If Cliff knew, he’d take Steve by the neck and throw him clean out of the solar system into the nearest black hole. Gar caught himself smirking at the idea, and the surge of guilt was immediate and cold. He shouldn’t be thinking that way. Steve had taken him in despite everything that happened in Africa, had allowed him to come home after what happened back at the Brotherhood’s base in France. He was lucky, all things considered.

Sharp pain in his ear snapped him out of the trance, and reality flew back in a rush. Gar jumped, turning his head and pulling his ear free from Ellie’s beak. She flicked her wings, maintaining her place curled into his shoulder, and croaked gently. He blinked at her, but anything he had to say was quickly tossed aside as Imogene’s voice came through his headset.

“Are you still awake??”

Gar stiffened, fumbling with his headphones to get them back over both ears and secured in place. “--Yeah! Yeah, sorry, um. Went to get a snack.”

“Well, warn us next time,” Bette’s voice piped up. “I was about to go across the hall and wake Wally up so he could run me over there in case you guys were dealing with something. Or someone.”

“I’d come, too,” Imogene said. “Kick their ass in the name of the moon. --did you see it tonight? It’s perfect.”

“I’m in the OPs Room, so I got the best view,” Gar said. He guided his character forward, eyeing the contents of the screen. Ah. Crap. Probably shouldn’t have zoned out in the middle of Prop Hunt. “...Gene, are you a banana _again_?”

“Noooooo.”

“She’s a banana again,” Bette sighed. “Come on, Gar, start looking under everything and in pots. Or open fire on the room.”

“Not my style.”

A bright light caught the corner of his eye, and Gar glanced to the coffee table. He’d pulled it up beside the couch, so it was against it, making it easier to reach a large mug of tea and his phone. The screen flickered out, but not before he’d gotten a chance to see the notification. A text message from Wally. Gar gave the laptop screen another look-over and, after he decided there were no other players in the room with him, he snatched his phone off the table and unlocked it.

> [forceofnature, 12:05am]: Hey! Sorry I went quiet for an hour, I had an online quiz and it was timed. And before you say anything, the questions were one at a time and my apartment’s internet is AGONIZINGLY slow. I was at the mercy of buffer pages. Pity me. :( if ur asleep, sweet dreams!

Gar smiled.

> [alligartor, 12:07am]: bold of you to assume i sleep
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:07am]: I sure hope you do!

“Gar! You see her yet?” Bette asked. Gar stiffened, his eyes snapping up from the phone screen to his laptop’s screen. The timer was still going at the bottom, and nothing in the area his character stood in was moving. He shifted a bit and tucked his phone on the arm of the couch, just between his arm and the cushion.

“Uuh, nope! Nothin’ yet,” he said, returning his hands to the keyboard. Imogene cackled through his headset.

“Babe, when I find you, I’m gonna destroy you,” Bette said.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Imogene asked.

“A promise.”

“ _Oooh_.~”

“Okay, okay,” Gar muttered. “This is a Christian server.”

“Bull _shit_ it is,” Bette said, laughing. “--no offense, Princess.”

“None **fucking** taken, Peach.”

The cell phone lit up again. Ellie tilted her head toward it as Gar craned one arm up, wedging his elbow awkwardly in the air as he pulled his phone back out. He unlocked it.

> [forceofnature, 12:10am]: So I'm up because of school. What’s your excuse?
> 
> [alligartor, 12:12am]: gaming with gene n bette. might sign off soon tho cuz going out with the team tomorrow
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:13am]: Oh yeah?
> 
> [alligartor, 12:14am]: yah! vic needs some stuff for classes and kori wants to shop. rach is coming.

“THERE SHE IS!!!”

Bette’s voice explodes through his headset, and Gar jumps, his phone flying out of his hands and clattering across his laptop keyboard. He lets out a hiss, swiping his hand across the keys to knock his phone into the space between his legs and the couch and quickly guiding his character forward. Just as he reached the threshold of the room, a banana flew by the door and with it, Imogene’s shrieking voice. He winced, using his pinky to hit the volume control on his keyboard, and took off after her. “-- _where_ do you keep finding BANANAS?!”

“Eat my peel, BITCH.” She shouted back. Bette was cackling. This only seemed to feed into Imogene’s excitement, and she squealed loudly as her banana rounded a corner. “ _ **YEET**_.”

“Gene, be QUIETER!!” Bette cried, laughing again. “You’re gonna scare the neighbors--Wally might have a class or something in the morning, and you’re gonna wake him up!”

“He’s still up,” Gar said.

Bette let out a gasp. “Ohhh **IS** he?”

“-- _Bette!_ ”

“Wait, what?” Imogene asked. The banana kept moving, and Gar and Bette continued their chase.

“It’s NOTHING, Gene,” Gar growled, shrinking into the couch. Ellie shifted her weight on his shoulder, churring as she poofed up her feathers and clicked her beak. “Just--stop moving!”

“Yeah, because THAT’S gonna--”

Imogene’s voice cut off in a squeal as Bette’s character fired, knocking the banana into the air. A stream of curses filled Gar’s headphones, and he couldn’t help but smirk painfully to himself as Imogene continued snarling and Bette burst into a fit of laughter. He pulled one side of the headset off his ear, setting it against the back of his head, and tugged his phone from where it’d fallen. He unlocked it and tapped into the text messages.

> [forceofnature, 12:15am]: Dude cool! You guys mind if I tag along? There’s a textbook I need and if I can get it in person instead of having to WAIT for it to get here by mail, that’d be sweet.

Gar inhaled a little and hesitated. After a couple seconds, he replied.

> [alligartor, 12:24am]: yah!!
> 
> [alligartor, 12:25am]: youre always good to chill with us dude
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:26am]: What time should I meet up?
> 
> [alligartor, 12:27am]: uuuuh like after lunch! Ill let ya know
> 
> [forceofnature, 12:27am]: Awesome. See ya then! AND GO TO BED. :)

“You up for another round, LGM?” Bette’s voice asked through his headphones. Gar bit down on his cheek, locking his phone again and setting it on the coffee table.

“Nah. Think I’ll call it for tonight,” he said. “Don’t wanna be dead on my feet at the mall tomorrow.”

Imogene groaned. “But it’s only midnight!”

“Babe, you don’t have any concept of time,” Bette said, sighing loudly. Imogene began grumbling, and Gar chuckled as he started to close out of the game window. There was a giggle, and Bette spoke up again. “So what were you and Wally talking abou--”

“G’night!” Gar interrupted, tapping his finger on the escape key. The chat platform closed, and he put the laptop to sleep.

* * *

Being at the mall during ‘school hours’ was… pretty weird.

The place wasn’t dead, that was for sure, but it wasn’t quite as hopping or loud as it could be. Most of the mall-goers were adults--be them anywhere from college kids to parents leading their toddlers from store to store--but every now and again, Gar would catch a glimpse of a few teenagers. Dropouts or just a couple scamps playing hooky? Hard to tell, and not really his business, anyway. He raised a hand in a loose wave as they pass a small group lurking by a corner shop, and one of the kids returns the gesture with a smirk.

“Alright,” Vic said, bringing his attention back to their own pack. Vic and Kori were at the head--their wide strides gave them a periodically annoying speed boost--while Gar hung a couple steps behind with Rachel and Wally. Vic slowed as he reached a large map display of the mall, pressing a finger against the block that represented the bookshop. “Rach and I are gonna head this way, check them out first b’fore poking around some of the smaller joints. But I think we’ll find what we’re lookin’ for here. Kori, you got a plan, or you just gonna surf?”

“I shall shop close to the food court!” She said, smiling and pointing to the designated area. “Though I may also check the newest store. Their website showed some articles that I would be most excited to try!”

“I’ll tag ‘long with Kori,” Gar said. He grinned at her, and she mirrored it back. “Might get some cool style ideas to toss Charlotte’s way. I could probably use a new pair of winter jeans that won’t, y’know. Rip up the moment I turn into a polar bear.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Rachel muttered. Gar squinted at her, poking his tongue between his lips just enough to get the gesture across. She stared at him, then looked away. Wally chuckled.

“Count me in on style hunting,” he said.

Gar blinked up at him, raising a brow.

“Don’t you need a textbook, too?”

Wally shrugged, smile lopsided. “Yeah, but it’ll take me maybe two minutes to scan the store to see if they have it or not. Then I’ll be stuck there. And _bored_. I know at least one person at the book club is gonna wanna browse for a bit.” He cast a pointed look in Rachel’s direction, but she either wasn’t listening or had opted to blow him off. Her eyes had dropped to her phone screen and stayed there. Wally blinked, then shook it off. “Anyway. We can always meet up in the food court after! Regroup there. Enjoy some fries.”

“Wonderful!” Kori said, clapping her hands.

“Just make sure no one sees the bird,” Rachel muttered. She looked up from her phone just long enough to send Gar a firm glance. He smiled as Ellie shifted almost knowingly in his backpack. She was beginning to show signs of recognition, aware of her name or when she was being addressed. It was pretty impressive.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be good.”

“Uh _huh_.”

“I’ll duck into a bathroom in, like, two hours to feed her. Promise.”

Rachel’s lips curved into a ghost of a smile, and she stepped past Vic and Kori, heading in the direction of the bookstore. Vic glanced back, nodding at the three before he fell into step alongside her.

Kori walked Gar and Wally through a shop that took up the center of the mall and acted as a sort of ‘shortcut’ from one side to the other. It was one of the more popular stores--or, at least, it’d seemed that way back when he used to loiter on the weekends--and even now, a couple folks were stepping in and out of the changing rooms.

An odd aroma of french fries and leather filled the air, and Gar wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t _bad_ , per say, but it was… unpleasant and weird. Not the best odor combination. He shook out his head, huffing as his ears slapped against his cheeks before straightening back out. Wally glanced down at him, smiling.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!” Gar said, managing to return the smile. His heart sped up momentarily, and he let out a thick exhale in an attempt to calm it, wiping the back of his hand under his nose to help disguise the gesture. “It, uh, just smells super weird in here.”

Wally’s brows lifted. “Weird? I just smell french fries. It’s starting to torment me.”

“Yeah, well, I can smell those and also leather and… what I think are some shoes that mighta been worn a bit out of their welcome.”

“Oh. ...that’s nice.”

“Sure is.”

“Should we have taken the longer route, Garfield?” Kori asked, leaning forward enough to look at him from Wally’s other side. She frowned. “I do not wish for you to get overstimulated.”

Gar held up his hands, shaking them as his smile faltered a bit. “No!! No, it’s cool! Heh! I’m kinda used to it. Malls always got a lot goin’ on, so I have half an idea of what I gotta deal with.”

Kori nodded her head with a small smile. Thankfully, the stores Kori was most interested in visiting were in the opposite direction of the food court. Smells of food and hints of smoke faded, leaving the air a little lighter.

They didn’t spend too long in the first store. Kori made a couple rounds through the displays and racks, Wally close at her heels, but didn’t seem impressed by the inventory. Gar didn’t blame her; he wandered toward one jacket rack, but there wasn’t anything there that seemed worth texting Charlotte’s way. As often as she assured him that she loved making him custom civvies--the fabric made of a similar material to his suit and able to transform with him--he knew it was a lot of work and, sometimes, a lot of resources. Besides, she was already working on a Halloween costume for him just in case he had to jump into action mid-party. He didn’t wanna dump something he wasn’t totally invested in on her.

Shop number two had better luck. It took maybe a minute for Kori to locate two pairs of boots to try on. Watching her shop was always interesting because Kori didn’t really have to keep the seasons in mind. She could walk around barefoot in frozen snow if she really wanted to. Gar had to gently remind Wally of this after Kori nabbed a pair of gladiator sandals and Wally’s expression grew confused and a little concerned.

With some success and two new pairs of shoes, they moved on to the third store on Kori’s not-really-existent list. She pulled several summer dresses off the clearance rack and dove into the dressing rooms. Gar and Wally took to a seating area nearby.

Gar sat quietly for a minute or two before pulling his phone out of his back pocket and staring at it. He could see Wally people-watching out of the corner of his eye and decided it’d… probably be okay for him to click into his text messages. So he did.

The text Rita had sent him in mid-September was still in the threads list. He hesitated before tapping into it.

> [mom, 12:36am]: Garfield. I know it’s late and hopefully you’re asleep. I also hope you’ve settled back into your life at the Tower and that your friends are well. Please call me when you get the chance. Rita.

Gar chewed on his inner cheek. He thought back to the previous night; the minutes where he’d spaced out and wondering if he should call back. If he should apologize to his dad. If not for mom’s sake. He knew this… _these_ … problems had to exhaust and worry her. She didn’t deserve that. The least he could do after everything she’d done for him? Step back… let her handle things with her husband, set her own boundaries. Right?

His thumb rapped against the side of his phone. From inside his backpack, Ellie began to wiggle. He felt one of her wings smack against his spine; she wasn’t large or strong enough to cause any semblance of pain, but it was enough to sense through his clothes and the thick material keeping her hidden away.

“Hey.”

Gar straightened, turning his head. Wally was facing him, now. His ginger brows were knitted together, and there were the smallest traces of worry riddled about his features. “You okay?”

“... yeah, I…” Gar looked down, pressing his thumb against the lock button. The phone’s screen went black, and he looked back up with a small smile. “Just, um. Thinking.”

“You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“... kinda weird for me, I guess, yeah.”

“--no,” Wally said, stiffening a bit. “That’s not--... --sorry, uh. I guess that came out a bit meaner than I intended. A lot meaner, actually.”

Gar snorted, smirking weakly. “Dude, it’s fine. I gotcha.”

They looked forward again, staring ahead to the dressing rooms.

Gar tossed his phone idly in the space between his knees, catching it with one hand before flipping it into the other. A question stirred in his gut. He bit down, hard, on his lip, eyes dropping from the dressing area to the phone as it flew between his palms. ...if he opened his mouth, there wouldn’t be any going back. He’d have to commit to it… and not blank out or be blatant about it. Which he knew was impossible. When it came to things like this, he royally _sucked_ at not being obvious. Pretty much everyone had made that clear. ...but he didn’t know what to do. And Wally… Wally _always_ seemed to know what to do. He was smart and considerate, kind and… and just wise and aware of all sorts of people. Gar only… he just had to play his cards right.

“... hey, um. Wally?”

Wally turned. “‘Sup?”

Gar hesitated, mouth open and silent. He sighed. “A, uh. --A friend of mine kinda got in a big... argument with their parents a while back. And it, um. It didn’t end all that great.” He paused, glancing at Wally out of the corner of his eyes. Wally had rotated to face him in full, now. His expression had softened, his gaze focused. Gar swallowed carefully and continued. “They dunno if, like… --if they should, um. Apologize to their parents, even though they didn’t do anything _wrong_. --They spoke out of line, I mean, but, uh… it wasn’t for _them_. It was for someone else.”

“I see,” Wally said.

Gar rolled his lips together before turning to look up at him, lifting his ears.

“But--like… they think that if they apologize a-and just, y’know, let it go, that it’ll make things easier for everyone else. The, um. The… --that maybe things will get peaceful again.”

Wally nodded. He was frowning, gently, now. Gar could feel the heat in his face rising, and a tightness ensnared his lungs. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so on edge. Why it felt like he was… betraying someone somehow by talking about this--even vaguely.

Gar resisted the desire to squirm where he sat or the urge to escape the conversation. He remained still, hands clutching his phone and knee beginning to bounce. Wally either didn’t notice or chose to ignore this as he spoke.

“So apologizing will cool things down,” Wally said. He paused, his frown deepening a little. “But there’s a trade-off for your friend. Isn’t there? … like apologizing is allowing something else to happen?”

Gar hesitated. Then he nodded.

“They, uh. They don’t really care about what happens to them or how… --what will come from that on their end or whatever. But. Apologizing might mean that it… it might make things worse for that person they spoke for. --let something else happen to them. And even though that person says it’s okay and says they’ll handle it, my friend can tell that they’re not… they’re not _happy_. And it hurts them. And… and my friend doesn’t want to just, y’know. Stand around and let it happen--they wanna do something. But that causes... problems.”

Wally nodded slowly, clasping his hands and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a long moment.

Gar took that time to swivel his ears--listen to their surroundings--and study Wally’s expression. It was surprisingly difficult to read. He looked thoughtful. A small, internalized part of Gar began to writhe and worry. He shouldn’t have said anything. He’d needlessly dumped a problem on someone else, and Wally already had Roy and Ajaya--his two best friends--to keep his mind occupied. On top of classes. An internship. _God, why did you say anything?_ He bit down on his lip. He was about to insist that Wally forget about it when he spoke up.

“This probably isn’t what you want to hear, Gar,” Wally said, slowly at first. He signed, looking up. “--Or, what your friend will want to hear. But. Your friend’s right to not want to stand there and look on while someone they care about gets hurt. It sounds like… --it sounds like a cycle. And if they don’t keep with it, there’re consequences… and… that’s how things are kept under control.”

Gar felt his mouth go dry. He swallowed, gaze dropping toward the floor between them. Wally continued, his voice lowering.

“They might need to break that cycle if they want anything to change. Otherwise, it’ll keep happening, or it might get worse with time and harder to stop. I know that’s really scary and hard and it… it’ll feel fruitless at first. You can get a really good glimpse of a person’s true nature the first time you tell them ‘no,’ and… and sometimes it’s not a nature you want to believe or accept exists. …--obviously, I don’t know all the ins and outs of your friend’s situation, but I know these things can be, uh. Much more complicated than they appear on the surface. But I think keeping their feet firmly planted on the ground is a substantial first step, and I'm proud of them for standing up in the first place. That can be really hard to do.”

Gar stared at him. Slowly, the heat that had risen in his face, the jittering nerves, all settled into something steady and soothing. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and it didn’t make him feel self-conscious. The two, simple words echoed over and over in his head.  _I'm proud._..

Again, that desire resurfaced. The want and need to close the distance between them and kiss Wally, to give action to words he could never accurately use to express himself. He was barely conscious of his eyes as they lowered their gaze and focused on Wally’s mouth. Almost instantly, he snapped them upward, feeling the burn spread through his skin from his nose to his ears anew.

“I have found two dresses and a top!!!”

Gar’s spine went straight, and he turned his head just as Wally rotated toward the dressing rooms. Kori floated out, expression bright and excited. There was a pale blue dress, and a dark green top draped over one arm, and a vibrant orange dress over the other. She raised both arms an inch or two, smile widening. “Shall we meet the others at the food court? --Reserve a table, perhaps?”

“--Good idea!” Gar said, shoving to stand up. His heart was pounding. His hands had gotten clammy. He gripped the straps of his backpack and grinned. “I gotta feed Ellie, anyway, so, uh--I’ll drop into the bookstore and tell’em where you guys are!”

“Are you sure?” Wally asked, standing and brushing off the back of his jeans. “We could just text them; Vic knows his way around the place.”

Gar shrugged, letting his smile relax just enough to go lopsided. “Yeah, but the bathroom’s in that direction anyway. _\--Hey!_ You could text me the book you’re looking for, and I can pick it up while I’m there!”

“-- _What?!_ \--Gar, no! Textbooks are expensive!”

“You bought me the camera,” Gar pointed out. He raised a brow, jabbing a finger in Wally’s direction. “Lemmie save ya some cash for the rest of the semester!”

Wally dropped his arms to his sides, aghast.

Gar allowed him to hang there a second longer before he whirled on his heel and started for the shop exit. As he left, he threw a glance over his shoulder and grinned. “Text me the book, dude!”

From behind him, Wally let out a frustrated snort, and Gar ducked his head as he stepped into the mall.

He sped up his pace--just a little--and kept his eyes peeled for the first bathroom he passed. Didn’t take him too long to locate one, and he slipped inside, grateful to find the stall at the end empty. There was really no non-awkward way to do this without Ellie being seen by a mall-goer. Not that he thought anyone would freak out, but he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with someone asking a lot of questions… or getting the idea that he’d plucked her out of the wild or something.

After Ellie had her second lunch, and he’d cleaned up the mess she’d managed to make of her feathers and towel, he washed his hands and headed back out.

The big bookstore wasn’t too far off. Gar checked his phone as he walked, smiling to see Wally had sent him a text. There was a series of letters and numbers in the preview. He didn’t really know what that meant, but maybe Rachel could help him figure it out if he found her.

Gar stepped into the bookstore, slowing his pace just enough to take in a steady, deep breath. The smell of new paper, fresh binding, and printed ink filled the air around him. It was like walking through some kind of invisible barrier; all the mall smells, the aromas of food and people, were left behind. There were just books, here. Even outside conversations from crowds passing by the entrance seemed muted. The bookstore might as well have existed in its own, private bubble. No wonder Rachel liked to hide away in places like this. She must find it peaceful and comforting in such an ordinarily chaotic place.

He spots Vic instantly. The cyborg towered over the various displays and shelves, his back to the entrance as he drags a finger across a series of book spines. Must be looking for a specific title or author or something. Gar didn’t really know how they’d be organized. He dug into his pocket and produced his phone, unlocking it and opening Wally’s text.

> [forceofnature, 2:33pm]: ISBN-13: 9781634830867 ; Forensic Science: New Developments, Perspectives and Advanced Technologies. Please try to find a used one if you can, and btw I hate you. T.T my treat when you get to the food court! They have smoothies!

Gar smirked, responding to the text with nothing but an ‘ok_hand’ emoji.

He still had no idea what those letters and numbers meant, but, thankfully, Wally had given him the title of the book. Shouldn’t be all that hard to find. Just had to figure out where to start looking.

After a few minutes of weaving in and out of aisles, he realized that… yeah, actually, this was going to be harder than he thought. He had to slow down, really stare at the spines of the books. Tilt his head often, so the jumbled letters straightened out and lined up. It also occurred to him that he had no idea how to spell ‘forensic,’ so he opened the text back up, rotating his phone enough to compare the word to others he passed on the shelves. He’d just rounded one of the aisles, starting to feel just a little disoriented, when he stopped. Rachel looked up from the book in her hands. She blinked once, then raised an inquisitive brow.

“What… are you doing here?”

“I know, right? Not exactly my usual digs, heh!” Gar smiled, shrugging. “Uuh--Wally and Kori went to the food court to get us a table. I had to feed Ellie, so I figured I’d drop in and just get you guys. --And get Wally’s textbook for him while I was here! ...yooou wouldn’t happen to know _where_ the textbooks are, would you?”

Rachel stared at him a second longer. Then she clapped the book she was holding shut, returning it to the empty slot in the shelves. Without a word, she stepped around and past him, and Gar fell into step behind her.

He should have guessed that they’d wind up in the same section Vic was poking around. He was here for textbooks, too, after all. Vic looked over his shoulder from where he’d knelt by a lower shelf, raising his free hand in a brief wave as they approached. He had three books already tucked under the other arm. “Hey, Gar. Kori find herself some new threads?”

“Sure did!” Gar said, slowing to stand beside Rachel. “They already moved on to the food court. I just dropped in to get you guys and the textbook Wally was after.”

“Cool. Which one y’lookin’ for?”

“Uuh--one sec!” Gar unlocked his phone again and brought up the text. He squinted at it. He hadn’t really read the title of the book as he’d been looking for it. More so searching for a title that loosely resembled the lettering on his screen. “For… _forei_ …. --hang on.” He lifted the screen a bit higher. “...--forensic… sciences. New de… _deffv_ …”

“Developments,” Rachel muttered. Gar stiffened, turning his head. She’d moved a little closer to his side and peered over his shoulder. She was looking at him, now, her brows furrowed. He blinked. Smiled.

“--yeah! Yeah, that. _Heh_ … thanks, Rach.”

She stared at him. Then, she reached across him, gently taking his phone out of his hands. He let out a small noise, attempting to swipe it back, but letting his arms flop back to his sides as she turned away and lifted the screen. “... have you always had your font size turned up this high?”

“Uh. Yeah, I guess.” Gar frowned, eyeing her. When she didn’t say anything else, his frown deepened. “... why?”

“Does the smaller font make your eyes hurt?”

“... no. It’s… it’s just harder to read.”

Vic blinked. Gar stiffened a little as he caught his friend eyeing him, the organic side of his face showing clear signs of confusion. “Hard to read? … --your eyes okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Gar said. He reached around Rachel, gently snatching his phone out of her hand. She glanced at him as she walked toward the textbook shelves. Gar looked after her before turning back to Vic. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“I dunno. I know you can change’m to better suit your environment.” Vic’s frown softened. “That’s still working alright?”

“Far as I can tell. They don’t hurt or feel swollen or--why?” Gar could feel his face warming. A sour taste was seeping into the back of his throat. He was starting to feel cornered. “What’s the big deal?”

“Because not being able to see clearly is usually a big deal,” Vic said, keeping his voice low and firm. “Especially if it means the difference between gettin’ hurt or not. Or worse.”

Gar let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not… --it’s not _that_. I just… --reading’s hard. Always has been. I can’t focus, and the letters get all jumbly.”

“Jumbly?” Vic repeated. His organic brow furrowed. "What's that mean?"

Rachel stepped up to stand with them, a large textbook in one arm. The cover had red splotches all over it, some fainter than others. Gar reached for it, shrugging, and she passed it to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered. He looked back to Vic. “Look, it’s not a big deal--you’ve known for a long time that it takes me forever to read something!”

“-- _wait_ ,” Vic said. He straightened, brow raising. “I always thought it took ya forever to do your school reading ‘cuz you kept gettin’ distracted by video games or climbin’ around your room findin' old stuff.”

“I mean, _I did_ ,” Gar said. “But… --I did that because reading got really frustrating and it made my brain hurt, and it was like I’d read a page and forget everything I just read! So it was annoying and a waste of time and I’d rather be doing something else!”

Vic and Rachel were silent.

Gar could feel his stomach going cold as he looked between them, trying to get a read on what they were thinking. That part of him that felt cornered--felt panicked--was beginning to get louder. They still hadn’t said anything yet. The silence was starting to get too loud-- beginning to make the blood pumping through his ears rumble like thunder. He couldn’t take it.

“ _\--What?!_ ”

The word spat out of him like cobra venom. They looked at him. Rachel didn’t move, but Vic opened his mouth. He paused, sighed, and held up a hand. “I don’t wanna jump to conclusions, here, Gar,” he said. His voice was calm and soft. It wasn’t helping. Gar’s eyes snapped between them.

“Jump to conclusions about what?”

“You might… --it… --it might be a good idea to see an educational psychologist.”

Gar stared at him. “... why?”

Vic shook his head, his frown deepening as he lowered his hand. “Don't freak. It’s just a cautionary thing--better safe than--”

“ **Why?** ”

“ _Gar._ It’s okay,” Rachel said. She took a step toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “... it. Just sounds like it’s possible you may have a learning disability of some kind. The things you’re describing are often attributed to one. Jumbled words, headaches, inability to retain what you’ve read. And this has been happening for some time?”

He didn’t… know what to think. His head felt empty. Rachel’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and she took a step to stand in front of him. He was barely aware of her hand on the side of his face, guiding his eyes to hers.

“This _isn’t_ bad,” she said. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Like Vic said: we’re only suggesting it out of precaution. Neither of us are professionals; we might be completely wrong. But if we’re right, we can help. … okay?”

“... okay.” He speaks without thinking.

Rachel’s frown softens. “Are _you_ okay?”

Gar blinks, slowly. He nods. “I’m fine.”

He could feel Ellie wiggling against his spine. Her wings opening and closing, smacking into his back through the backpack’s material. Rachel’s expression remained still, but he saw something in her eyes weaken and almost glass over. She nodded once, lowering her hand from his face. “Alright. Let’s buy these books and meet up with the others. I’m sure Wally’s eaten half the food court by now.”

The quip is meant to be light-hearted. He knows she’s trying.

Gar’s aware that Vic is still rooted where he stands, even as Rachel moves between them toward the register. He’s aware his knees are starting to quiver. His muscles, bones, nerves, are all begging to escape. To get out of this store, to get out of the mall. He breathes in through his nose as he turns and lets his feet carry him after Rachel. One ear swivels, listens to Vic’s heavy steps as he falls into place behind.

A… a learning disability? This isn’t bad? --Of _course_ , it’s _bad_. It. It’s another. Another _thing_ on an already long list. Another reason Steve was _right_ about **everything**. His thieving past, his failure to save loved ones, his _impulsiveness_ , old habits that refused to die, abandoning his family and running away, an inability to _listen_ to direction and what happened to Rouge. This was just _another thing_ that made his presence stressful and his existence a wrinkle in Steve’s otherwise smooth life. Which meant wrinkles in Rita’s life, in Cliff and Larry’s lives. First, he got in the way, then he was disobedient, and now he was stupid. He was even more of a liability than he'd been before.

Gar’s hands tightened, and he looked down at the book he held. He’d seen the words three times, now, and Rachel had read one of them to him. But he didn’t recognize them. It was a weird sensation. Suddenly being… acutely _aware_ of something you’ve struggled with, lived with your whole life and just accepted as normal. Realizing it's _not_ normal... that there might even be a word for it. His thumbs grazed the sides of the book, and he shifted his jaw.

Wally could read this in a minute. Maybe less. It’d probably take Gar a week to scrap through one chapter, and after a day he wouldn’t even remember it. He felt the heat spread through his skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. It was embarrassment. Shame.

_He knows me. He knows how easily I make a mess of things, how stupid I am. He knows what I did._

...and now… this is just… _another_ … **thing**.

His eyes were starting to burn.

Gar inhaled deeply through his nose, holding the breath for the seconds it took to move further up the line at the register. Rachel passed some bills across the counter to purchase two books. Gar swallowed and exhaled through his lips, just slow enough that the breath was silent. He had to push it down. He wasn’t about to lose himself in the middle of this bookstore. As he slid up to take Rachel’s place, he managed a broad smile and passed the book to the cashier. She smiled back at him, and they went through the motions without disturbance.

Gar joined Rachel at the shop entrance. He avoided eye contact with her. He knew she’d notice, but he didn’t care.

Vic arrived a few minutes later. “Alright, Y'all. Let’s head on over to the court.”

That surge of panic gripped his chest again. Tighter this time. Nails, digging into his ribs, biting his skin. He didn’t want to be here anymore. The idea of being around Kori and Wally... It felt like he was suffocating. He didn’t want to go to the food court. He _couldn’t_ … didn’t…

“--I-I actually realized I don’t have enough food to get Ellie through the rest of the afternoon,” he said, looking up. Vic and Rachel were both frowning, but their expressions were gentle. They didn’t exchange a glance. Instead, Vic nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah… u-uh. --Here.” Gar stepped forward, passing the shopping bag to Rachel. “Would you give this to Wally?”

Rachel nodded, accepting the bag. He knew that she knew he was lying. So did Vic. Again, he didn’t care.

Before either of them had a chance to try and talk him out of it, he turned on his heel and started toward the nearest mall entrance. Beneath the murmur of mall-goers, he was pretty sure he heard them talking to each other.

The walk through and out of the mall was a haze. He was aware of passing faces, idle conversations, and smells, but none of them fully registered or stuck. At one point he heard someone shout ‘Beast Boy!’ but his own superhero alias didn’t click immediately. By the time it had, he’d already moved too far away to react appropriately. This only served to magnify the guilt and inadequacy he was already feeling.

Gar sucked in a breath of air as he exited the mall. It was crisp and earthy, and some of the pressure on his lungs subsided. Ellie wiggled in his backpack again. He quickened his pace, just enough so that he knew he’d put some distance between him and the mall by the time Rachel and Vic met up with Kori and Wally.

He just wanted to disappear.

* * *

It’d been a couple hours since Rachel and Kori had returned from the mall. Gar wondered how much longer he could get away with hiding in his room until one of them came to check on him. Or how much longer he could have his phone completely and utterly silenced before Wally or Bette or Gene or Casper started to get more than a little concerned with the lack of replies they were receiving.

He lay on his top bunk, facing the edge of his bed with one arm draped over Deep Blue’s back. Ellie had gotten cranky for the first fifteen minutes they’d been back; the concept of being isolated to the bottom bunk while he was above and out of sight didn’t sit well with her, apparently. So he’d moved her up with him, and she’d quickly taken to exploring the small space while he sank into the mattress and let his mind go white. Every now and again, he’d become aware of her curious pecks and nibbles--on his sleeves, his ears, his toes--or the gentle grip of her talons when she’d hop onto his legs and try to perch. But mostly he just laid there and stared into the wall across his room, barely conscious to the passing of time.

Vic had said not to jump to conclusions. But the more he thought about it--thought about just the past couple months--, the more he realized how much sense it made. Struggling to sound out and comprehend the words on his phone screen. Being unable to read the menu at the diner he and Wally visited because the font was stylized and weird and just telling the waitress to surprise him. All the times he begged Bette to spell correctly in her texting because it made it almost impossible to decipher. Years of grammar slips, autocorrect regularly saving him from humiliation and having to sometimes read out loud to himself if he had any hope of recognizing a printed word. The fact that so many of his online passwords had more to do with muscle memory while typing than they did the actual combination of letters and numbers.

Those first handfuls of bad experiences in the classroom--where he’d failed to read a passage out loud or wasted half an hour of the class’s time being unable to grasp a simple mathematics concept--had lead to disappointment from teachers and mockery from classmates. It hadn’t taken him long to not only accept that he was an idiot but to roll with it. It was easier to play the fool, the slacker, the guy who wasn’t interested or invested than to try and try and try to prove them wrong only to publicly fail and bring about even more ridicule. Better to laugh _with_ than be laughed _at_.

And, now, it was like… that… hadn’t even been a choice he’d actually _made_. He’d been doomed from the start. He really was just… an idiot.

Again, the corners of his eyes began to burn and blur. Gar swallowed, rapidly blinking his eyes and willing the pain away. He sat upright in bed. It must have been a while since he’d last moved because the suddenness startled Ellie, and she flinch-flicked her wings as she craned her head to look up at him from the space around his feet. He smiled at her apologetically, then glanced down at where he’d dropped his phone by his backpack.

He thought about the night before again and his earlier conversation with Wally. That he should call Rita back, and he should talk to her about the summer, try to echo what Wally had said. … maybe… maybe ask if she thought… --if she thought he _should_ see an educational… psychologist.

Gar bit down on the inside of his cheek. He eyed his phone for a second longer before scooting to the edge of his bed and letting himself slide off and to the floor.

He scooped his phone off the ground, unlocking it and opening his contacts. He found Rita’s. He opened it.

Seconds passed. Gar could feel that anxiety building again, and he hated himself for it. He shouldn’t be scared of talking to her--he shouldn’t be nervous or ashamed. But he’d hung up on her last time. What if she was mad? What if he’d hurt her? Gar closed his eyes, letting his head drop back and his hands and phone fall against his waist. After a long pause, he righted himself and clicked the ‘call’ button. He lifted the phone to his ear.

It rang. It rang. Rang. Rang. Ra-- _click!_

He felt his heart jump as the line picked up, and his fingers tightened around his phone. “--Mom?”

There was a pause before he got a response.

“Beast Boy.”

… Gar felt his entire body go cold and breathless. He stood there. Still. Silent. Staring at the floor.

Finally, he blinked himself out of it. He rolled his lips together to wet them. “... D… --Dad. Hi.”

Another pause. Gar couldn’t move. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was aware that his knees were suddenly weak. He wanted to sit down, but he couldn’t. Again, he rolled his lips. “Um. Where… --why are you answering mom’s phone? --Is she okay?”

“Elasti-girl's meeting with the Chief right now.”

“--are her powers still stable?”

“She’s fine.”

Okay. That provided some small semblance of relief.

Gar allowed himself to breathe. “Oh. Good. Um. Can… can she call me back when she’s done? I, uh, need to talk to her.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.”

“What ‘stuff’?”

“--I-I dunno! Just _stuff!_ ”

The already stern voice on the other end hardened. “Anything you can say to Elasti-girl, you can say to me, Beast Boy. What happened?”

“Nothing… nothing’s happened,” Gar said. “I just want to talk to her.”

“Is this about Adonis? Kardiak?”

Gar inhaled slowly, his fingers gripping the phone. He was barely aware of Ellie when she let out a hiss. “Wh--... no. _No!_ It’s--”

“Because I’m surprised your team has yet to locate the machine. Especially when they have someone who _should_ be proficient in tracking working with them. But I suppose the Brotherhood did a well enough job with its upgrades.” A low sigh. Gar winced. “I did some reading, and it looks like Kardiak has a habit of targeting children. With an event like Halloween on the horizon, I _expect_ you’d all recognize that as an urgent concern.”

“We do, and we’re--”

“--and there was an article on your confrontation with Adonis in September.”

“Y-yeah, we--”

“--You _kicked_ him in the head from an _angle_?”

Gar’s mouth formed silent words. His voice kicked back in. “--H-he had me pinned--I couldn't--”

“Beast Boy, your carelessness has already resulted in the death of **one** well-known super-villain." The voice had hardened, sharpened, now. It cut through the speaker like a knife. "That blow could have easily broken his neck, causing permanent paralysis or killing him. Your previous affiliations may have been willing to act so thoughtlessly, but so long as you wear the Doom Patrol uniform and associate yourself with us, you will abide by _our_ code. Is that _clear?_ ”

He couldn’t feel himself standing there. He was aware of his shivering knees, quaking lips, but he couldn’t feel them. He didn’t feel real. “Yes, sir.”

“Whatever it is you called about, work it out on your own. You’re an **adult** , now. _Act like one_. It’s time Rita stopped coddling you.”

“... Yes, sir.”

“Good. Try to think before you act next time, Beast Boy.”

The line clicked.

Gar stood, silent, in front of his bed.

He stared into the wall. Slowly, his shallow breaths began to deepen. Quicken. He peeled his phone away from his ear, arm shaking as it lowered absently back to his side. His eyes were on fire. His throat was tight. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream or rip something apart. His every muscle itched to move and run and fly. Instead, he choked on saliva and walked toward his room door, each step heavier than the last.

Ellie croaked loudly, and Gar stopped.

He couldn’t leave her here. Not alone. He couldn’t do that to her.

Gar dropped his phone and turned, quickly walking back to his bed. His breath hitched as he reached up and delicately tugged her from the sheets, tucking her into his arms. “So-sorry, Ellie.” The apology comes out in a rasp. He barely stops himself from sniveling. “I-I’m sorry.”

She lets out a throaty little noise, nibbling his fingertips.

Gar's door slides open, and he narrowly avoids plowing past Rachel. She side-steps, and he catches a glimpse of her wide-eyed expression before he ducks his head.

“Gar?” He can hear her fall into step behind him, keeping pace with his quickening strides. “Gar, what’s wrong?”

Gar shakes his head. He keeps moving. Kori’s room is on the other side of the Tower. He has to get there. Now.

“ _Gar_.” Rachel’s still behind him. He knows she could walk beside him if she wanted to, but she’s keeping a distance. “Please. Talk to me. Let me help.”

Damn it. That drags the tears out.

He can feel them pushing past the rims of his eyes and pooling behind the lids. The hallway grows blurry, but he walks on, keeping his eyes down and his head low. Rachel continues to follow, but she’s silent now. She won’t reach out and try to physically stop him. She’ll respect his boundaries, as she would want him to do for her. He walks on.

Gar nearly runs head-long into Kori’s room door, stopping just in time to raise a fist and rap against it. He internally begs her to open it fast. He needs to get out. He can’t be in this Tower anymore--he needs to _go_.

The door slides open, and he shoves Ellie into Kori's arms as carefully as he can manage. The raven shrieks.

“--Garfield?!” Kori starts, but he’s already turned away and moved for the stairwell. Kori calls out for him again, but if she’d tried to follow behind, Rachel had stopped her.

Gar bursts through the stairwell entrance, stumbles up the steps, shoves through the door and onto the roof, sprints to the edge and runs right off into the open air. He’s not thinking. His cells think for him--react to the rush of wind, pull of gravity, and form wings, feathers, hollow bones. He’s a falcon, and he soars across the bay.

Buildings fly past. The cool glow of their inner lights blur together, a blend of lifeless whites and neons. Even as a bird, it feels like his eyes are burning, and it's hard to breathe. He feels heavy and weak and confused and panicked--feels like he's being chased even though he's not. With a sharp beat of his wings, he flies on. Past the city, into the suburbs.

Gar reverts forms as he nears the sidewalk. His feet hit the pavement hard enough to send a jolt through his skeleton, one that would typically rattle his teeth, but he breaks into an immediate sprint. The pain in the soles of his feet didn’t matter. That grip on his lungs didn’t matter. The bile building in his throat, gagging him, clawing him didn’t matter. He just _runs_. He forces back sobs and tears and aches. His body turns into air.

He barely notices when he swerves off the sidewalk and across a lawn. He doesn’t even realize he's rapping his fist against the front door until the sound stopped. His throat was dry and sore, and Gar pulls away from the door, pacing in a small circle. He reached up and dragged his nails through his hair. He realized he was panting. His face felt sticky and crusty, and he scrubbed at it with the heels of his palms, desperate to hide the evidence. The sound of the door unlocking startled him. He whirled to face it, immediately bathed in warm hallway light.

Silas stood in the threshold. He looked alarmed, wide-eyed behind his glasses. “Garfield?”

Gar swallowed hard. He had to keep it together. Why had he come here? What happened? He barely remembered the flight and the blind sprint. His mouth opened, hesitant. “Is…” He almost cringed at the wetness of his voice. “I-is Vic… home?”

“Yes,” Silas said, nodding. He took a step back, calling into the hallway. “Victor! It’s Garfield!”

Silas moved aside, wordlessly inviting him in. Gar shook his head, shrinking away from the door. Silas’s usual calm expression sank into worry, and he tilted his chin down. “... Garfield, are you alright?”

Gar opened his mouth, beginning to nod. He paused.

He shook his head, looking down and away.

“Victor, bring your jacket,” Silas called into the house.

The impulse to turn and run hit him like a train. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was stupid, and it was _weak_ , and it was **childish** \-- _you’re an adult now; act like one_ \--and he should be able to figure this out on his own, but he’s stupid and useless and he _can’t_. _He can’t_.

His lungs convulse, and the next breath he sucks in actually hurts as it billows into his throat.

Gar looks up as a new shadow casts a silhouette in the hallway light, and he sees Vic stooping through the door and stepping outside. Just past him, at the end of the hall into the kitchen, he sees Ajaya. Her arms are folded, and she’s craning her head just enough to peer around Vic’s shoulder. The guilt that fills him is cold and immediate, and he wants to vanish into nothing. Gar ducks his head, hugging his arms tightly around himself. He shouldn't _be_ here. Whatever good evening they were having, he'd _ruined_ it.

The silence seems to drag on forever. Then, Vic spoke up.

“Ajaya,” he says, voice soft. “I gotta--”

“--go,” she says. She doesn’t sound angry. Or annoyed. She sounds… calm.

The grass crunches as Vic steps into it. The warm light narrows, the front door clicking as it shuts. Gar feels the substantial weight of Vic’s hand on his shoulder, and he sniffs, wiping furiously at the tears beginning to trail down his cheeks anew. He looks up, and Vic stares down at him. His expression is gentle; even his cybernetic eye, usually eerie and hollow, seems to glass over with concern and life.

Vic gives his shoulder a squeeze and nods his head.

“Let’s go for a drive.”


	15. Hygge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, my dudes!!! sorry for the wait, and i hope you're doing well! ^-^/

He was vaguely aware of cold wind washing over his face. It kept him rooted in the moment but also sent him into a quiet, trance-like state.

Through the T-Car’s open window, he watched blades of grass whisk pass in a dark sea, speckled here and there with fireflies or the reflection of silver moonlight. Over the rush of air, the near-silent rumble of their vehicle, he could make out cricket song and bat calls. It was soothing. Calming. Just enough to keep everything else at bay.

He knew it wouldn't last long.

Gar wedged himself in the corner created by the car door and seat, his head tucked between his shoulders and his legs curled into his chest. Vic refused to start the car until he’d buckled in, but he’d still managed to make the position work. He kept his eyes on the passing land, watching the grass blur and the moon remain unmoving. Every couple seconds his vision would balloon, and he’d feel fresh tears trail down his face. They’d cool rapidly, run across his cheeks and leave cool stripes of salt as they dried. He made no effort to wipe them away. Vic had already seen it; there wasn’t a point.

Vic is quiet the whole drive. Gar keeps his eyes out the window, but he can feel the couple seconds here and there when his friend looks in his direction. There were many reasons he shouldn’t have shown up on Vic’s porch. The most damning being that this was his problem--the consequences of stupid mistakes _he’d_ made, things _he’d_ done without thinking. It was something _he_ had to deal with. Lessons _he_ had to learn.

“Gar.”

He heard his name, but it took several seconds for him to lift his head and turn away from the window. Vic had stopped the car just off-road. Wherever they were, it was dark. Most of the light came from the moon and the T-Car's headlights. He could see patches of trees clustered in the fields around them. Gar blinked at Vic, and Vic nodded. “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk.”

Gar stared at him. Vic didn’t wait long. He held Gar’s gaze for a beat, then turned away and pushed the driver’s door open, stepping into the grass. Gar watched as he rounded toward the car’s hood and pocketed his hands in his jacket, stopping a few feet from the front. The blue cybernetics coating his skull faded in and out of a faint glow. Gar continued watching him for nearly a minute before he sighed and shoved his car door open. He slid out of his seat and elbowed the door shut, hugging his arms over his chest as he strode to Vic’s side. When he reached him, Vic started walking again. Gar followed without much thought, letting Vic’s taller shadow guide him toward a dirt path.

They walked in silence until they reached the tree line. Then, Vic spoke up.

“... how ya feeling?”

Gar rolled his lips together, inhaling slowly before sighing it out. He didn’t know how he felt. Numb? Sure. But numb was better than what had dragged him out here to begin with. Seems he had managed to run it off or run away from it. He really didn’t want to give it a chance to catch up. “... Fine.”

“Yeah?” Vic wasn’t convinced. That much was clear in the tone of his voice. “Then y’wanna tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You showed up on my dad’s porch--crying--because nothing happened.”

“I guess.”

“You _guess_.”

Gar let out a snort, fingers digging into his arms. Steve’s voice began whispering in his ears, caught in the passing breeze. His throat started to tighten, but he swallowed hard. “Look, I j… I just…” He trailed off.

“... is this about earlier?” Vic asked. Something in his tone had softened. “About the bookstore?”

_Kinda._

“No.”

“Something happen at the Tower?”

“No.”

“Is… this about summer?”

“...”

“... ah.”

Gar winced.

He inhaled, looking down and away from Vic. The couple of trees were beginning to grow further and further apart. Ahead of them, outlined by moonlight, he could see the piles of miscellaneous garbage and trinkets that made up a small junkyard.

As they walked through the gates, his eyes caught sight of a large burn mark zig-zagging across the ground. The blackened path stopped, an old truck in its way melted through the front and scarred by fire and smoke. Damage left behind by Tavis and one of his fits, Gar figured.

The storm brothers had learned to keep bursts of energy outside of city limits, and Gar had shown them this junkyard, himself, in hopes that it could serve as an outlet of sorts. It wasn’t utilized by the public often, usually serving as personal dumping grounds by citizens and less by workers involved in sanitation. Chances of casualties or an accident getting out of hand were a lot lower. Seems they’d taken him up on it.

Vic leads him forward and through the small space. He's quiet for only a little while longer.

“Gar…”

“I dunno what I’m supposed to tell you, Vic,” Gar muttered. His throat started getting tight again. He shrugged, trying to loosen his shoulders somehow, like it would alleviate the grip on his throat. “It’s… you can’t do anything. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“Then why were you at my dad’s place, Gar?”

“—I don’t _know_ , okay?” Gar turned sharply, almost glaring up at Vic. “I just… —I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have dropped in like that—I’m sorry, okay?!”

“Whoa.” Vic’s steps slowed, his frown softening. “Gar, hold up. I’m not mad atcha for showing up. I’m glad you did.”

Gar stiffened. His steps stopped abruptly, and his hands tightened on his arms. “... huh?”

Vic’s expression weakened, and he sighed. He looked around the junkyard before holding up a hand, a silent signal for Gar to stay where he was. Gar pressed his lips together and shrank into his shoulders as Vic walked away. A minute passed before a loud, creaking noise caught his attention, and Gar turned his head to see Vic pulling a large tire free from some of the garbage. He dropped it on the ground and rolled it toward him, nudging it, so it toppled onto its side with an enormous thud. Gar winced a little, ears twitching, but sat down on the curve of the tire as Vic gestured at it. Vic shrugged out of his jacket as he sat down beside him. He draped it over Gar's back before leaning forward, clasping his hands and settling them between his knees. Gar's hands found their way to the jacket's flaps. He gripped them like a shield, pulling them closer to his chest.

For a while, they sat in silence. Gar could feel his muscles tightening. The urge to escape the situation was starting to rise. He felt ashamed for having allowed himself to get here. Felt stupid for being incapable of taking what had been said to him and trying to improve himself--try to get better. Pain began to rise in his chest, and he could have choked on it. He held his breath, forced it down with a swallow.

Vic turned his head to look at him. Gar could see the soft glow of his cybernetic eye in his peripheral vision.

“I’m glad you came to our place,” Vic said. “I know something’s been botherin’ you more than usual. I didn’t wanna force it outta you ‘cause it wasn’t my place to do that. And it’s still not my place. So I’m not gonna force it outta you now, either. That’s in your hands. But I want you to know that I’m here to help. I ain’t here to judge, and I ain’t here to get mad. Even if I can’t do anything directly, I can be an ear to listen, and I can give an outsider’s voice if you want it. I’m your friend, Gar, and I’ve got your back. Always have, always will. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Gar swallowed. The burn behind his eyes was back, and a sickly feeling curled in his stomach. He didn’t know what to do or say, and he was scared. Scared that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Scared that this could go horribly wrong.

What if, despite the reassurance, Vic walked away? Gar knew he, himself, had done it before… assuring someone that he’d be their friend no matter what, only to turn his back mere minutes from making the promise.

But he… couldn’t do this anymore. No matter how scared he was of risking Vic’s friendship, it couldn't compare to the feeling of being overwhelmingly and utterly alone. Of locking himself in his room--of shoving it all as far down into himself as he could. He didn't want to be alone with this anymore. It'd grown too big, too loud, too heavy. Like a starving tiger caged and without food, it would only be a matter of time before it swallowed him whole.

Gar inhaled, holding the breath as he closed his eyes. His fingers dug into the jacket, pinching his skin on its zipper. He rolled his jaw.

“... do, um. Do you remember, um. The… --when you guys first met the Patrol. How, uh. --What dad…” It felt wrong. Just talking about this felt so wrong. It wasn't his place. It _wasn't_. “What… he sometimes did when mom would talk?”

He felt a change in the air. It’s colder. Tenser. Despite the shift, Vic’s voice remained gentle. “Y’mean... the hand thing?”

Gar hesitated. He nodded. “Did… did it bother you?”

“Yeah,” Vic said after a moment. He shifted his weight, looking down at the grass under his shoes. “Didn't think it was my business to say anything.”

“So… s-so you think it was wrong?”

There was a pause. Vic rotated to face him again. “Do you?”

“I…” Gar rolled his lips together, licking one of the corners. “... whenever I’d bring it up, mom would tell me not to worry about it. That she’d work it out with dad later, and… --but she never did. He kept doing it. --He did it when I was just starting out on the team, and he was still doing it when we went to help them three years ago. And…”

“... he’s still doin’ it now,” Vic finished. Gar stayed silent. He squeezed the jacket, fingers burrowed into the thick fabric. Finally, he exhaled, forcing the words out in the breath.

“I-I hated it,” he said. “Not just because he was a jerk, but because I knew--I KNOW--she hates it, too--I can feel it, Vic.” He looked up, shoulders tense and eyes starting to burn anew. “Y-you know I can feel things--not like Rachel can, but I CAN. And… and I can feel something change when he cuts her off. It--it **hurts** her--I can’t explain how I know, but I **do** , and I… --he doesn’t even _say_ anything, Vic.”

Vic nodded slowly but remained quiet. Gar kept talking.

“And--... we… --we were on a mission over the summer, and everything was mostly going fine. But Cliff and dad started to have an argument about something--I don’t even remember what it was, but it started small and got bigger and bigger, and by the time we’d gotten from one place to the next, they were at each other’s throats. Mom and me and Larry were all… --we were tired and tense and… just. --Dad said something to Cliff. And I remember it made the rest of us stop because it was _bad_. Mom tried to get in the middle and calm both of them down but dad did _that_ , and she backed off and… --a-and.”

The words felt lodged in his throat. They felt heavier--his tongue felt thicker. He coughed, swallowing hard.

“And I just... _snapped_ at him. I told him to stop, and I told him he was an asshole, and I told him just because he’s the _stupid_ team leader that he doesn’t get to treat his wife--my **mom** \--like that and--”

The next cough was less of a cough and more of a choked sob. He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t stop talking now that he’d started. His eyes stayed glued to the grass around his feet.

“--a-and… and he… he didn’t like it and the rest of the summer… training was hard… and--and I couldn’t do _anything_ ri-right. I never can--and, and now I’ve not on-only made it worse--worse for ev-everyone--but I--now there’s something ELSE wrong with me, and I’m… I-I dunno, I’m…”

He had to clamp down on his jaw. His eyes were burning like acid. His hands were shaking. His throat and chest were tight and frantic, the pressure increasing more and more, pressing upward like bile. He didn’t want to let it out. He couldn’t. He sucked in a sharp breath, attempting to smother it.

Things went quiet. All he could hear was the wind, the heave of his lungs, the rushing blood in his ears. Then, Vic rested a hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Gar,” he said. “... I’m not gonna put words in your mouth or thoughts in your head. But I am gonna tell you that what you’re doing right now? Holding everything in? It ain’t healthy. Letting it out ain't weakness. It’s okay--and good--to feel, process, and cry. And you’re _safe_ , here, with me. Y’know that, right?”

It could have been the tone in Vic’s voice. The steady weight of his hand on Gar’s shoulder. How he assured him--even though he already knew--that he was safe. This was a place of no judgment.

As Gar looked up and nodded his head, he could feel it. All of it. Swelling, slowly at first then all at once, to the surface, in a sudden loss of control. The breath that burst from his lips was so sharp it almost hurt, and as his lungs heaved to replace the air, tears pooled, streamed down his face.

Gar doubled over, arms wrapped around his center as his head touched his knees. His chest convulsed, and his shoulders shook. He could hear his voice, meek and quaking, strain through every inhale and exhale. Vic’s hand remained strong where it rested, keeping him anchored. A quiet assurance he wasn’t left alone in the dark.

His mouth and tongue stumbled over each other, forming sentences between wheezed breaths, sobs, and coughs. He recounted the day they’d defeated the Brotherhood of Evil. How his stupidity--eagerness to pull another lousy pun out of an enemy’s expense--had lead to a horrible accident.

Rouge, with powers sensitive to extreme temperatures, had been frozen by a machine none of them really knew how to operate. He’d put a hand on her shoulder, leaned against her, and she’d cracked. Fell to the floor. Shattered to shards like glass.

The silence that swept the room had carved itself into his memory.

He could remember, in painful clarity, looking up from the pieces to see every eye in the area locked on him. Shocked expressions, paled faces… utter disbelief. Never in his life had he wanted to be struck down where he stood as much as he did at that moment.

It’d only gotten worse when the Doom Patrol found out. Or, rather. When Mento found out.

 _I knew this would happen,_ his father had said. They stood, alone, in the monitor room, surrounded by the washed out glow of screens and the shadows cast across the floor and walls. Gar stared at the ground between them, unable to make eye contact. Unable to face the giant screen where footage from a Brotherhood base security camera had documented the incident. _I tried to tell her. I **tried** to tell Rita that no matter what we taught you, we wouldn’t be able to unteach what you’d already learned from those criminals. But she insisted. And I tried to guide you. Discipline. Hard-work. Awareness. Yet you continued, again and again, to show defiance, disobedience--insisted on doing things **your** own way rather than listen to simple direction. You’d rather remain in the world you grew up in._

The words cut like knives. It’d taken everything--everything--in him to keep from showing a desire to cry. He bit, chewed, on his tongue until the taste of copper had grown sour and stale. _No. No, I don’t. I found you because I wanted to help. I wanted to do better._

His father’s brows raised inquisitively, and he gestured to the monitors, voice raised. _You consider **this** ‘doing better’?_

_No, I--_

_You were careless. **Again**. It’s taken someone paying the ultimate price to wake you up. ...considering your past acquaintances removed their problems in the most permanent of ways, you should have woken up to the concept of action and consequences a long, long time ago._

… he’d nothing to say in his defense. The conversation had been over.

Gar stuttered on, managing to explain around thin breaths that, yes, he had wanted to try returning to the Doom Patrol--to try mending a tense relationship between himself and his surrogate family. But part of the reason he wanted to work with them again for a few months of the year was to prove he was trying. To show he was doing better--he could be better.

But he’d undone all of it in the summer. Starting with picking a fight and ending with a bad training session where he failed, miserably, to complete his mission. His attempts to bring his family closer together again were only driving them further apart… arguments between his parents, anger between his father and uncles. He'd taken a mess and made it a disaster. Like he _always_ did.

He sniffed, scrubbing the space between his nose and upper lip with the backs of his knuckles. Vic sat beside him in silence, hand still firm on his shoulder. Gar’s throat was dry and hot and like he’d dragged a set of claws from top to bottom. Several seconds passed as he regained control of his breath. His eyes ached, still trying to cry despite that there was nothing left.

He felt… so small and stupid and pathetic. Weak. Idiotic. He didn’t know what else to say. He shook his head.

“... m… m’sorry,” he croaked, sniffing against the back of his wrist. Vic squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t be. ...how do ya feel?”

Gar blinked, inhaling slowly, holding it, then exhaling in a gush. “Tired.”

“Heh. Yeah. Bottlin’ till you blow will do that to ya.” Vic gave his back a firm pat with his palm. Then, he looked down. “Damn. … some summer.”

Gar scoffed, hugging his arms around his knees. After a second or so, he shrugged. “He’s right.”

“Uh.” Vic looked back up, scowling. “What makes you say that?”

“Because… --because I kicked Adonis.”

“... wait, _what_?”

“When Adonis tried to rob that bank a month ago. He had me pinned to the street, and Ajaya hit him with a hex that started turning his armor to dust. ...so… s-so I kicked him in the jaw.”

“Yeah?”

“--What if I’d cracked or broken his neck?!” Gar turned sharply toward him. The muscles in his face felt strained as he stared back. “I shouldn’t have… --I _can’t_ … --it was stupid!”

“Gar,” Vic said, his tone firm once more. “Ajaya told me ‘bout that. She said he had his hands on your throat. You got a survival instinct stronger than most of us, probably ‘cuz of where your powers come from, it’s what makes ya so unpredictable sometimes. ...it may not’ve been the best way to escape the situation, but what did Mento expect you to do? Wait for Adonis to just let go?”

Gar was silent. He pressed his lips together. Vic's frown deepened but softened.

“Gar, c’mon.”

“--I messed up with Adonis. I messed up with Rouge. And I messed up with--”

Gar cut himself off. He sucked in a small breath, throat soured by the name that had nearly escaped. Vic’s organic eye widened, and he blinked twice. Gar looked away from him. He could still feel the weight of Vic’s gaze fixed on him after several seconds had passed.

“...with Tara?”

It struck him like a fist. Gar recoiled from the name, wincing from the force of it and the surprise that Vic had known. He was able to resist the urge to look at him. “... Wh… H-how… did...?”

“A mix of things,” Vic muttered. “When you were on your way back after the summer, you were real insistent on seein’ her before gettin’ to the Tower. --which is cool, obviously. But it felt different. There was something about your voice. Then, uh. Then Ellie showed up. ...I know you didn’t just find her outside, Gar. She ain’t… --she’s… --it’s not even the season for baby birds to be showing up. I scanned her once while you weren’t payin’ attention and. A lotta data spikes I got matched those I usually pick up around Rachel. So I asked her. ...you had another nightmare, didn’t you? One worse than the others.”

“... yeah.” The word is barely audible. Gar swallows and rubs the heel of his palm against the underside of his cheek. Vic nodded.

“S’been a while. ...th’last one was… after the Brotherhood. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“... y’wanna talk about it?”

The word ‘no’ leaps to the tip of his tongue, but Gar keeps his mouth closed.

He remembers that night. After everything had wrapped up in France, after they’d gone their separate ways and finally decided things had quieted down just enough to get some rest. He’d gone home with Vic while Kori and Rachel had stayed behind at the Tower. Rouge’s death remained at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t think of anything but the way she’d split and crumbled to pieces around his shoes. Each time Silas had so much as moved a glass or dishes made of china, the scrape or chime sent a sharp chill through his bones. When he finally managed to fall asleep, the dreams rushed in.

He was back at the Brotherhood headquarters. Rouge was frozen in place mere feet ahead of him. He touched her shoulder, and she’d become stone. There’d been a brief glimpse of Tara’s broken expression before she crumbled to dust. He’d woken with a cry, and he’d only told Vic enough to get him to stop asking questions.

He didn’t want him to know. He didn’t want any of them to know. It was just more proof. Just showed that he hadn’t changed at all since Eddie and Bates had roped him into their world.

Gar felt his expression contort. He bit down, hard, on his lower lip, and his shoulders hitched. He was so stupid and scared and… and he didn’t know what else to do. It'd be pointless to try brushing Vic away, now. He was too tired, too small, to try.

“It… i-it was that night,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “The night Slade tried to take you guys out. And… a-and I…”

“You and Tara were at the boardwalk.”

Gar nodded. “... it didn’t… start like that. The dream? ...--It. --We were on Titan’s island. Then I was in the mirror house. I… I tr-tried to find her, but I-I couldn’t. When… I did, we… --there was glass…” He swallowed, throat tightening. The fear felt like it was gathering behind his eyes, burning and twisting his vision. He thought his tears had gone dry, but they were beginning to leak down his cheeks again. “...I ... I couldn’t get to her. I had t--... the… --it… everything we sa…” His voice cracked and fell away. He didn’t want to keep talking. “... Vic, I… everything I _said_ to her… I couldn’t…”

He couldn’t look up. He could feel the weight of Vic’s gaze.

“I said… I _told_ her… Vic, I told her she di-didn-didn’t have any friends.” His voice gave out as he spoke, shriveling into a whine. He ducked his head, pressing his forehead into his knees and wrapping his arms behind his neck to hide from the shame settling over him. He sucked in a wet breath, curling further into himself. “Who _says that_?? Wh-who **says that**? T-to… to someone--who…”

He could feel himself falling apart again, just as he had after the nightmare. But before the weight had fully set in, Vic’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. He let himself sink into Vic’s side, even curled closer for the assurance that another body was there beside him. Vic was silent, allowing whatever pain that’d been pushed down and away claw to the surface, make itself known. Gar could vaguely feel Vic's palm rubbing his upper arm and squeezing his shoulder, providing continual assurance. They were there. Present and anchored. And Vic, steady as an oak, wasn’t going to let him drift away.

When the fresh sobs had slowed to wet sniffs and coughs, Vic exhaled. He squeezed Gar’s shoulder again, giving it a soft pat, and nodded. “... this the first time you’ve talked ‘bout that?”

Gar nodded his head. He smeared the back of his palm under both eyes. At this point, it didn't do much. His face only felt stickier and raw.

Vic’s frown deepened.

“ _Shit_ … m’sorry, man. For both of you.” He paused, rolling his lips as he seemed to consider what he was going to say next. Gar’s ear twitched as he glanced up at Vic, lips and chin still quivering a little. Vic sighed. “It took a while to get you to talk about that night at all… but you know that." He paused again, then looked at Gar. "...why’d you say it?”

“I dunno,” Gar muttered. The answer was more defensive and reflexive; he quickly corrected himself. “I-I mean... “ He sniffed. “She… --she’d asked if I’d be her… fr-friend no matter… what. So… when she… --I told her that.” He paused, feeling his throat tighten all over again. “I-I was so… **mad** and… --and scared b-because… --I didn’t have my com-communicator a-and you guys coulda been… --and I didn’t know, and… and she… --it-it was like I was supposed to be _okay_ with it--with her hurting us--and I just wanted to--...”

_I wanted to hurt her back._

He didn’t need to say it. He knew by the way Vic nodded grimly, how his head turned away, that Vic could hear him.

Another several seconds passed.

Vic inhaled and spoke again. “Gar… I’m not saying what you did was right, but. You realize how crazy an expectation that was for her to have?”

Gar bit down on the inside of his cheek. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it again, rubbing the underside of his nose. Vic continued, “what she did was… messed up. Putting it lightly. And it sounds like she put you on the spot, too. Emotions had to’ve been running high. You don’t always think clearly when that happens. You just act.”

“--but what about--” Gar inhaled, cutting himself off. Vic turned to him again.

“... what about…?”

“...about Ajaya?”

Vic straightened.

Gar looked down before Vic could make eye contact with him, swallowing hard. He waited, hoping that Vic would say something to fill the silence. When the air remained empty, he shrank into himself, voice meek. “She… she was our enemy from day one. She had a lotta reasons not… to like…--to like us. But… she… --Wally was… --he was nice to her anyway, and…”

“... and she turned around,” Vic finished in a soft mutter. Gar nodded. “You think if you responded differently to Tara, things… could have been a lot different.”

There was something weird about hearing it out loud. Gar couldn’t describe it, so he nodded again. His voice cracked when he spoke. “Yeah.”

“Gar,” Vic said. His voice had softened. “You can’t do that.”

Gar winced, starting to shrink away. Vic’s arm loosened only enough around him to give him the space he needed but remained around his shoulder. “Look. ...it might appear similar on the surface and all, but. It isn't, Gar. It just _isn’t_. Ajaya was never someone we trusted before. Someone we trusted with our lives before. She never _had_ trust to use against us.” He paused, exhaling through his nose. “What Tara did… it was seriously messed up. And to expect you to just roll with that is nuts. She, uh. She had a lot goin’ on that she clearly hadn’t worked through, herself. To be able to do everything she could but not know _how_ , that’s… she was desperate. It’s no excuse, but she was desperate. And desperate people sometimes do things with a real clouded judgment. They can’t see past what they need.”

Gar rolled his lips together, biting down on the corners.

“Could you have handled it better? Sure. But I get the feeling that, by that point, she was already in too deep. ...you can’t blame yourself for that. And in the end… you _know_ she cared about you. A lot. She wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.”

The words sank in slowly. Like ink spilled into water, they spread through his chest, beginning to web and expand and cloud the cold with warmth and quiet resolve.

He didn’t feel relieved… but he felt something slide off his shoulders.

Yeah. Tara had been mad and rightfully so. But in her last seconds with him, as they’d clung to each other--tried to prolong the moment as long as they could--she’d whispered. _You were the best friend I’ve ever had._

Despite the boiling temperature, the hiss of magma and crumbling rocks around them, he’d felt it. After years of guilt, of denying he was deserving of that feeling, he remembered it again. Clearly, as it'd arrived in the volcano. The sincerity the words carried, and the apology in the spaces between.

Gar rubbed at the skin under his eye. Relief had passed, replaced with utter emotional and physical exhaustion. He felt disconnected from his body, floaty and drowsy.

They sat together in the junkyard for a few more silent minutes. Then Vic guided him to his feet, and they made their way back to the T-Car.

Vic offered to have him crash at his place for the night. It sounded nice and, honestly, the idea of waking up somewhere other than his own bed was tempting… but Gar shook his head. He had to get back to the Tower and get Ellie from Kori. He also didn’t want to make Ajaya more uncomfortable than she might already be.

Gar stared out the window as they drove back to the Tower. Tara’s last words played through his head. The way she’d looked at him as he’d backed into the tunnel. Her sad, but grateful smile. He’d often wondered if she’d known what stopping the volcano would do to her. If she was scared. If she knew when he visited.

As the T-Car rose from the underground tunnel and into the Tower's garage, Gar unlocked the passenger door and slid out of the seat. He sighed, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the new lighting, and began to shrug out of Vic’s jacket. Vic raised a hand off the wheel and shook his head.

“Keep it for the night. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

Gar blinked at him, frowning. “Are… a-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Vic said, nodding. “You gonna be okay?”

Gar nodded, easing the jacket back onto his shoulders.

He stood in the garage until the T-Car and platform had descended back into the tunnel. Once the floor closed, Gar exited and made for the elevator.

If he hadn’t been so dead on his feet, he might have felt embarrassment and shame begin to claw its way in. Instead, he slid into a fog. The elevator and halls fell away behind him as he made his way to Kori’s room door, knocking gingerly on the metal. It opened before he’d even lowered his fist, and Kori’s worried expression came into view. Ellie was tucked in the crook of one of her arms. The raven trilled the moment she saw him.

“Garfield!” Kori gasped. She reached forward at the same time Ellie sprang out of her arms. Gar inhaled as Ellie’s talons caught on Vic’s jacket. She hauled herself onto his shoulder as Kori wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, pressing the side of her head against his. “Are you alright??”

“Y-yeah,” Gar said, managing to think quick enough to wrap his arms around her. “Yeah, um. I’m okay. I just… --I needed air, and, um…”

“You do not have to explain,” Kori said. She pulled away, resting her hands on his upper arms. She smiled and lowered her chin. “I am just grateful to know you are alright. ...you look tired.”

Gar nodded, looking down and wringing his hands a little. Ellie situated her balance on his shoulder, churring and snuggling into the crook of his neck. She was warm, and her feathers were soft against his jaw and ear. It was soothing. He felt more tired than he had before. “I think I’m just gonna head to bed. Thanks for watching Ellie. I hope she didn’t make any trouble.”

“She missed you. But she was very well behaved.”

“Good… good.”

Gar looked up as Kori stepped to the side. Rachel moved out of her room and into the hall, slowing enough to face them. She must have stayed with Kori, too, while he’d been gone.

Ugh… okay. A little bit of embarrassment and shame was kicking in.

Kori bid them goodnight, and Gar stepped down the corridor with Rachel. They moved in mutual silence. Even Ellie stayed quiet and still, pressed into the slope of his shoulder. Had it not been for the cold, swirling sensation in his gut, Gar may have forgotten Rachel was even at his side by the time his room door came into view. Her voice, though low, almost made him jump.

“Gar.”

He stiffened, turning enough to look at her as he slowed to a stop. She did the same. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember… the day Trigon came to earth?” She asked. Something about her voice was cautious? Hesitant? Gar nodded. She continued. “Before I went into the safe room, you gave me a penny. The one you’d found earlier that day? ...for good luck?”

“Yeah,” Gar said, nodding again. “I, uh. I remember. ...why?”

Rachel paused. Then, she ducked her head and dug into her hoodie pocket. She produced a small stone, no bigger than the tip of her pinky finger. It was oval in shape, pale pink and white in color. Smooth as glass. She held it in the space between them. “I want you to have this.”

Gar blinked. He reached out and carefully plucked the stone from her palm. “What… what is it?”

“It’s rose quartz,” Rachel said. “I cleansed it a few days ago and charged it in moonlight while you were gone. It emits strong vibrations of love. For others, for yourself, for past pain. ...I hope it helps you see that you’re deserving of forgiveness, understanding, and to allow yourself the same compassion you’ve shown us and others.”

Gar stared at her for a long moment before his gaze trailed back to the stone. Slowly, his fingers shifted, so it tumbled down them and into the center of his palm. He closed his hand around it, biting down on the corner of his lip. Despite thinking he’d exhausted himself of tears, the backs of his eyes began to burn. “Thanks, Rachel. C… can I…”

She stepped forward, wrapping one arm over and around the shoulder Ellie had left open. Gar leaned in and wrapped his arms under hers, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck. His lungs hitched.

The embrace was cool as winter wind, yet gentle and secure. He kept his hold light enough to signal she could pull away whenever she felt ready. She momentarily tightened the hug, and he returned the gesture, only for her to take in a sharp breath. Quickly, he pulled away, shrinking back. “--Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she said, hand still on his shoulder. “I’m just sore from my last appointment with Lulu and Maua. ...go get some sleep, Gar. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He nodded. She patted his shoulder.

Rachel made her way to the elevator, and Gar entered his room. Rose quartz still in hand, he crawled up to the top bunk and dropped into it. Ellie croaked as she sprang off his shoulder and landed beside his pillow, not as gracefully as she might have liked. One of her wings smacked him in the temple as she righted herself. He felt heavy from head to toe. Now that he was off his feet, that weight increased tenfold.

He used his foot to ease one sheet up to his knee, then grabbed it and pulled it up and over his chin as his eyes closed. One of his ears twitched as Ellie walked around his head, her feathers brushing against his forehead, hairline, and neck.

Sound faded as weight became weightless. The last thing he heard was a low chirp and the click of Ellie’s beak...

* * *

...Or maybe that’d been the first thing he’d heard. Because he heard it a second time right before something clamped down on his ear and tugged.

Gar flinched, snapping to consciousness. Ellie hopped away, creeping down his arm and side to perch on his hip. She tilted her head as he blinked at her, as though she was trying to decide if waking him up had been a good idea in the first place.

With a low, groggy groan, Gar pushed up onto one palm and rubbed at his eyes. His face ached. The skin on his cheeks and around his eyes was tender, sore and heavy, and his eyes just hurt. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand, and after a minute or so of sitting there, realized something hard was pressing against the underside of his other palm. He closed his hand around it, lifting and opening his fingers.

Oh. Right. The quartz. He pocketed the stone.

A glance at his phone showed it was nearly noon. There was a text from Vic. No notification of a missed call from Rita nor a voicemail. He felt his heart sink as he clicked into the text.

> [rust bucket, 9:47am]: mornin gar. hey. make sure you’re dressed and ready to go comin down to ops room. goes for the death omen too.

Gar squinted. _Dressed and ready to go?_ Vic hadn’t… he hadn’t said anything about plans today last night, had he? Nothing was coming to mind. Given the circumstances, though, he may have forgotten. Gar replied with a simple “uh ok” and set his phone on the lower bunk.

Minutes later, he stepped into the elevator. Ellie plucked at the collar of his cool patrol jacket, clicking her beak. Gar glanced at her and smirked, reaching up to scratch the back of her neck. The elevator doors slid open on the OPs Room floor, and he stepped out, crossing the hall to the double doors. They slid open, and he froze three steps into the room.

Bette and Kori, from their seat on the couch, looked up at the same time. Kori gasped, grinning as she rose from the couch and flew toward him. “Garfield!! You are awake!”

“Yeah, I-- _uMPH!_ ” He grunted as she scooped him into her arms, hugging and lifting him off the floor. Ellie squawked and flapped her wings to maintain balance. She slapped him in the ear a few times, but he stayed still as Kori set him back on his feet. “Heh! Yeah, uh. Hey, Kori.”

Her grin softened to a smile, and she stepped aside. Gar rubbed his neck, taking in a better look around the room. Vic stood in the kitchen. Imogene perched on the counter, feet tucked under her legs, and Wally leaned casually against its side. It took him a moment to find Rachel; she sat in the far corner of the room with a book hovering just below her nose. Ajaya leaned against a nearby wall, eyeing her nails and (obviously) trying to ignore his arrival.

For a second or so, there was this nervous… unsettling feeling. Were Wally, Bette, and Imogene here because of last night? --Did they know? Vic wouldn’t have told them, would he? Rachel wouldn’t. He hoped Kori wouldn’t, even if she meant well. He didn't want to deal with this. He really didn't.

Thankfully, the worry dissolved as Vic turned to face him.

“There ya are!” He said with a broad grin. “We were gettin’ worried we were gonna have to start the game withoutcha!”

“Game…?” Gar asked. He glanced at Kori, who looked like she was about to burst from containing her excitement, and wandered a little further into the room. “Uh. Sorry! I didn’t know there was something planned--I musta spaced.”

“Oh, it was not planned!” Kori said. She side-stepped to stand just a little ahead of him, clasping her hands. “Ajaya had the most wonderful idea, and we--”

“--it was _Vic’s_ idea,” Ajaya interrupted. She looked up from her nails just long enough to send Kori a narrow side-eye. “Vic’s **idiotic** idea.”

Gar glanced to the kitchen. Wally looked away from Ajaya with a crooked smirk, and Imogene had puffed herself up very much like an angry frog. Vic looked unphased. “I thought it was finally time to give into, how y’all call it: 'the spook.' So we’re gonna play a little game this afternoon.”

“I’m gonna kick everyone’s ass,” Imogene said. “Gonna kick _mom’s_ ass, gonna kick _your_ ass, gonna kick **my own** ass.”

“Looking forward to it, babe,” Bette said with a wink and a sideways simper. Imogene slapped a hand against her cheek and gasped, delighted.

Gar’s ears rose as he moved to stand behind the couch, his attention piqued. “Wait, what kinda game??”

“You know how those Halloween stores just pop up all over the city this time of year?” Vic asked. Gar nodded. “I thought it’d be fun to split into two teams. Each team can hit up one shop all for their own, then we raid the big’un at the same time. Whoever comes out with the best-lookin' and most creative costume? Wins. But someone’s gotta be wearing it.”

Alright. That sounded chaotic and cool. Gar's shoulders relaxed. “Did we already pick the teams, or?”

“You’re with Bette, Gene, and Wally. ...Ellie, too, since she and Gene are small enough to count as one person.”

“Wow, mom,” Imogene said, rotating to look at Vic. “ **Wow**.”

“Oh!” Gar blinked. He glanced back at Ajaya and Rachel, who were now staring at each other from the corners of their eyes.

They were gonna be on a team, huh? ...Vic would have his hands full.

“That cool?” Wally asked, pushing off the counter and pocketing his hands. Gar nodded.

“Sure! Fine by me.”

“It’s not too late to trade a team member,” Rachel muttered, slanting her eyes to look at him. She then turned to glance at Wally. “Also. Vic neglected to mention something. We’re not using our powers.”

Wally straightened, blinking once before dropping into a disappointed slouch. “--Wait, really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“...I guess that’s fair,” Wally muttered. “There _is_ a civilian playing.”

“A civilian that’s gonna _kick your ass_ ,” Imogene hissed.

Wally laughed. “We’re on the same team!”

“Yeah, and you’re going DOWN.”

“Okay, okay!” Vic said, stepping into the center of the room. “I’m gonna flip a coin to see who gets out the garage first. Our team takes the west side. Bette, your team takes east.”

“Aye aye,” Bette said. She flicked one wrist to her forehead and out in a swift salute. “We call tails.”

Vic pulled a quarter out of his pocket, smirking in Bette’s direction as he positioned it on his thumb. With a faint _ting!_ the quarter flew into the air, twirling until it landed in Vic’s palm and he slapped it against the back of his other hand. Everyone leaned in a little. Even Rachel tilted her chin up. Vic pulled his hand away. He grinned, pumping his fist in the air. “It’s HEADS, y’all!”

Kori cheered, bouncing in place and laughing as Imogene threw up her arms and dropped her head back with a pained noise. Vic laughed, too, tucking the quarter into his back pocket. Rachel closed her book, and she and Ajaya moved toward the elevator doors.

“Y’all sit tight for ten minutes, then you can head on out,” Vic said, tossing Wally a smirk over his shoulder as he fell into step behind the girls. Wally slumped, so he hung half-way over the couch, groaning in response.

“Ten minutes?!”

Gar smirked as he walked up behind him, leaning just enough to pat his shoulder. “Promise, dude. You’ll make it.”

Wally only groaned again. Imogene hopped off the counter, grumbling as she began to pace around the OPs Room. Gar’s ears wiggled, turning his attention toward Bette. She had her ankles crossed on the coffee table in front of her and a satisfied, curved smirk on her lips. He blinked at her, squinting. Her smirk curled further, and she dropped her eyes down the length of his arm. Gar looked down. His hand was still resting on Wally’s shoulder.

Gar shot Bette a glance as he pocketed his hands.

* * *

The ten-minute wait was agonizing in its own twisted way. There was still some weight lingering on Gar’s shoulders, and his eyes felt puffy. A fog of exhaustion hovered around in his brain. Those ten minutes somehow felt like forever and felt like nothing at all. So when Bette suddenly launched off the couch and shouted “LET’S GET IN THE CAR, LOSERS,” he just about sprang out of his skin.

They dashed out of the OPs Room, piling into the elevator. Imogene slammed a finger into the garage level button. Wally bounced in place the entire ride down, and Bette sent him a sideways, teasing glance every chance she got. Soon as the doors slid open, they rushed forward and across the hall. None of them bothered opening the convertible doors, opting instead to vault over the sides and drop into the leather seats. Imogene shrieked "SHOTGUN," immediately flinging her tiny self over the door and into place. Gar snorted at her, letting himself slide across the trunk and into one of the backseats. Wally dropped down beside him. The floor jolted, then lowered into the tunnel.

“Hold onto your butts!” Bette said over her shoulder, winking at them. Wally gave her a thumbs up and a grin; Gar plucked Ellie off his shoulder, gingerly tucking her under one of his jacket flaps. Soon as the platform touched the ground and locked into place, Bette hit the gas. Gar grunted as he and Wally flung back against the seats. The car shot through the tunnel. Wally laughed, and he could hear Imogene cheering over the roar of the engine. In a way, it was as though all that weight, all the fog, was peeled away from him as they soared through the crisp tunnel air. They launched through the end door, and Bette swerved onto the road. She thrust one fist in the air and whooped, laughing as her hair swirled out behind her and tangled in the wind.

“Who’s gonna be our model?” Bette shouted, tossing a glance in her rear-view mirror. Gar opened his mouth, but Imogene twisted to look back at them, her grin wild and bright with mischief.

“WALLY,” she said. “He’s the tallest--and if we’re gonna make an effective Bob Saget, we gotta go big or go home.”

“--Gene, **NO** ,” Gar said, laughing despite his protest. “Please. _Please,_ not Bob Saget.”

Wally was cackling too much to contribute. So Imogene stuck out her tongue.

“Imogene, YES,” she shouted back.

“Kinda with Gar on this one, Imogene,” Bette said, chuckling. “Mostly because I get the feeling that Bob-related accessories might be harder to find than, y’know, ghouls and stuff.” She glanced in the rear-view mirror again. “Wally, you up to being our model?”

“Sure!” Wally said, shrugging and draping his arms over the backs of the seats. Gar watched one hand rest on the leather just behind his neck. He quickly looked forward again.

“Gar,” Bette said, flicking her eyes toward his reflection in the mirror. “How’s Ellie with Wally? You think she’ll let him hold her? Kinda like… --I don’t wanna call her an accessory, but…”

“I think she’s pretty cool with him!” Gar said. He adjusted Ellie under the flap of his jacket. She nipped at his wrist, churring. “She’s never, like. Acted uncomfortable around him. As long as I'm around, she'll be good.”

Wally flashed him a grin, and Gar felt his cheeks warm. He pressed his lips together, managing to smile back without (or so he hoped) being too obvious. He could feel Bette’s smirk from the back seat.

Imogene cheered, thrusting her fists into the air.

“Oh my fuCKING GOD, YOU GUYS, we should make him a grim reaper!!! --NO--like that Murder of Crows dude from Bioshock! Holy shit!”

Wally’s grin faltered. Gar stiffened, feeling his ears rise. There was a slight shift in the moving air around them, and he turned toward the front seats again. “--What about, like. A witch? --Warlock, or whatever? They have those animal friends that follow them around. Wally’s could be Ellie instead of a black cat or something!”

“Ohhhh,” Imogene said, and she looked at Bette with wide eyes. Bette flashed her a smile, winking.

“That sounds ideal, LGM.”

Gar smiled, nodding once. As he sank back into the car seat, he felt the air lighten again. He kept his eyes forward, fidgeting with the ends of his jacket.

* * *

They arrived at the first store in a matter of minutes. Bette swerved into a parking space, and they piled out of the convertible, dashing toward the entrance. Wally took up the lead (powers or not, he was still faster) and Imogene squealed as she tried to keep up. They burst into the store. Bette immediately took charge.

“--Okay!” She said, skidding to a stop and whirling to face them just as Gar moved Ellie onto his shoulder. “We need a cloak or a robe or something--some fancy-ass wig with wild hair colors--a staff or wand thing--uuuuh--”

“I demand pointed shoes,” Wally cut in. Imogene cackled and took off down the nearest aisle.

"I'm gonna get a GANDALF BEARD."

Bette laughed and cupped her hands around her mouth. "That's a _wizard_ , babe!"

She turned, punched Wally’s arm and stuck out her tongue, skipping once before sprinting toward the opposite side of the store. “I’m gonna snag jewelry!!! RINGS, bay-bee!!”

“Do they even sell shoes at these places?” Gar asked as he and Wally jogged toward the back of the store. Wally chuckled, shaking his head.

“Probably not! But we can workshop it! --I’ll look for a cape!”

“Guess I got props!”

They split up, each heading in a different direction.

Gar took to the first aisle he spotted that had more than just costumes on display. There were loads of accessories lining the shelves--from cheap brooms to rubbery, clawed hands and shoe-covers to make monstrous feet. Glue-on stitches, wounds, pointed nails. Rubber roaches, sets of fangs, spiders on strings. And, of course, the cottony cobwebbing that’s a ton of fun to put up but a pain in the butt to take down, especially if it rains.

Gar pursed his lips, beginning to poke through the items to make sure nothing was hiding out of sight. People had a habit of putting stuff ‘back’ where it didn’t belong, and that meant that the ‘right’ thing might be hidden behind a misplaced thing. This was also a method sometimes exercised to better ensure someone wouldn’t nab the thing you wanted so you could raise your chances of being able to come back and purchase it later. He knew a lot of the tricks.

Silly as it might sound, he almost forgot Ellie on his shoulder. She hopped off and landed on the shelf in front of him. Gar reached out, seizing the small crystal ball before she had the chance to peck it.

“Don’t cause trouble, Ellie,” he muttered, smirking as she poofed her feathers and let out an _"augh!"_ of protest. He didn’t know how the store’s staff would feel about a live raven snooping around. She might not be able to fly yet, but that sure wasn’t going to stop her usual mischief making. She clicked her beak, eyeing some of the plastic wrappings on a package of fake blood. Hopefully, she wouldn’t tear it open the moment he turned his back.

Gar moved on, locating a small, glass cauldron with a handle. He snatched it. It’d look pretty wicked with some of that webbing wrapped around the handle, dangling over the edges. He plucked a pack of cobwebs off the shelf, stuffing it into the cauldron. Ellie scampered along behind him before she ran out of room on the shelf. She inched to the edge, checked the distance, and sprang off, flapping her wings as she descended. Gar watched her manage to land somewhat gracefully, flopping onto her chest and wiggling her wings to right herself. He smirked at her, moving into the next aisle as she hopped after him.

When he emerged from the aisles, he spotted Bette and Wally standing toward the middle of the store. Bette held some sort of vest-looking thing over his front, trying to see if it might fit him. Gar smiled, jogging toward them. Ellie scampered behind.

“I was thinking something more along the lines of a cloak,” Wally said. He tilted his chin up as Bette wedged her hand against his neck. When he spotted Gar, he grinned lopsidedly, holding two fingers up in a ‘peace’ sign. “Gar, you have any idea what she’s thinking? -- _ooo,_ is that a cauldron?”

Gar chuckled, nodding. “Sure is. Uuuh. …--oh, no. I think she’s going modern on ya, dude.”

“Hell yeah, I am,” Bette said, throwing him a smirk over her shoulder. “No pointed hats with stars sewn into them, here. And guess what? Couldn’t find pointed shoes, either.”

“Awh, man,” Wally muttered. The words were barely out of his mouth when Imogene came sprinting toward them. In one hand, she had at least four bags of golden glitter. In the other, she had a wand. She grinned wildly as she slid to a stop right in front of them, holding both items in the space between.

“ _It’s Brittany, **BITCH** ,_” she shouted.

They all failed to stifle their laughter.

* * *

It became abundantly clear that they were still missing several essential aspects of their costume; Vic had made a good call when he picked the big store for the final destination. The one they were at right now was pretty well stocked with a wide range of stuff, but the ‘big one’ downtown was like Halloween Town.

For now, they dove into the dressing rooms.

The top Bette grabbed was a sort of open shirt style. Where the front cuts into two pieces and one folds over the other, creating a v-neck that reaches to about the sternum. Added with two golden necklaces Imogene had found, several sparkling rings, and the cauldron, Wally had a flashy fashionista sort of flare to him.

When he came out from behind the curtain, Gar felt his chest swell and his face go warm. He held his breath, swallowing as Bette and Wally exchanged opinions on the pants size and how the shirt fit. The sleeves were long and a little baggy, creating an enthralling sense of movement. Imogene insisted on throwing some glitter on him right away, but Bette maintained they wait until they reached the next and final store, so the glitter wouldn’t fly off during the drive. She also decided a shoulder-cape would be a nice touch and made a note to find one at their stop.

Once Bette had messed with the sleeves, and where the necklaces fell on Wally’s collar, she called Gar over to see if Ellie would be willing to perch on his shoulder. Gar coaxed Ellie away from some of the discarded jewelry and onto his hand. Wally chuckled as he ducked down to let Gar set her on the curve of his shoulder. Ellie crept over, immediately engrossed by the shine of Wally’s artificial-gold necklaces. He straightened as she began to peck at them. Gar caught a glimpse of Wally’s collar and the visible part of his chest as he leaned back. He looked away as quickly as he could think to, convinced his entire face was on fire.

Imogene demanded pictures to throw on her Instagram page, and they squished together to fit in the screen area of her phone. A second picture was taken with Gar’s camera. A third was taken after Ellie tore open one of the glitter bags and discovered just how troublesome the pretty 'dust' could be. That stuff was never going to come out of her wings.

Wally quickly got changed back into his civvies, and they filed to the front of the store to make the purchases. With the final charge split four ways (and Ellie carefully wrapped in Gar’s jacket, which he carried at his side), they ran for the car.

* * *

Imogene spent the majority of the ride chattering through all the ways she could use the glitter on Wally’s costume and digging through her bag for her cosplay tools. Wally leaned forward so he could peer between the front seats, speaking with just as much enthusiasm and a full, elated smile. Bette would sometimes look over her shoulder, adding an opinion or a laugh to the discussion. Gar sat back in his seat, smiling to himself as he watched the three of them.

He still felt tired, but… he didn't hurt as much.

* * *

They hit the ground running.

Wally tore ahead as expected, Imogene and Bette at his heels. Gar took up the rear, throwing glances around the parking lot. Sure enough, the T-Car hid away toward the less crowded rows. Vic and team had beat them here. Didn’t mean they were going to win, though.

Once in the store, they split into two groups. Bette and Imogene took off to the left of the store while Wally and Gar darted right. They filed through the aisles, digging through the shelves in search of any other accessories that could complement what they’d previously snagged.

“You think they sell that dry ice stuff?” Gar asked, kneeling to get a better look at a lower shelf. Ellie flapped her wings once as she kept balance on his shoulder. Wally hummed from across the aisle. He snatched a few packs of glow sticks.

“I dunno. --Maybe we can find a smoke machine small enough to fit in the cauldron? The dry ice might mess with the cobwebs you put on it.”

“Good point.”

“Worth a shot!... --oh, dude!” Wally pointed down the aisle as Gar’s ears lifted, and he turned his head. There was an open display of plastic and glass crystals and stones. “If we’re going the warlock route, those would be a cool detail! I know Ajaya’s got some quartz crystals, maybe amethyst ones, too? She uses their cleansing energy on bad days while she meditates.”

Gar stood up. He remembered the small rose quartz tucked in his pocket, and he nodded. “Good call! I’ll snag some!”

Wally gave him a thumbs up, and Gar took up a jog toward the display. Upon reaching it, it was evident that the ‘box,’ itself, wasn’t too deep. It kinda looked like those displays at tourist traps where you can buy yourself a pouch of pebbles, bits of fossils, or shells, with the price ranging on how big a pouch you purchase. Instead of pebbles, of course, this one had a variety of colored and clear ‘gems.’ Some more convincing than others. Closer inspection revealed a container of velvety black pouches of three different sizes; so, yeah, it was pretty similar to the tourist thing.

Gar began to dig through the stash of 'gems,' trying to find a good representation for Wally’s costume. Gold was one of their primary colors--through the jewelry they’d already bought, and the glitter Imogene had picked--so anything in the gold, yellow or even orange families would be a cool find. Most of these were pink or purple or blue. Some were black like obsidian. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, finally locating two yellowy-orange crystals in the pile. Just as he was about to give up on a clear one, Ellie slid down his upper arm to stop at his elbow. She croaked loudly, taking on a position much like a hunting dog might make. Gar followed her gaze. His eyes locked onto a near-invisible, translucent sphere of crystal. He grinned, and his hand stretched across the display.

A second hand slapped down on his just as he closed his fingers around the sphere. He looked up.

Ajaya stood on the other side of the display, her sharp pink eyes locked on his. They stared at each other in a silent pause. Gar's smile weakened, tipping his chin down. “... Ajaya.”

“Garfield,” she returned, tone cool and silky.

“Uh.” He didn’t know why he brought it up. But he did. “I’m, uh. Sorry about last night. You probably felt super awkward having to--”

“--Shut up,” she said. Her voice hadn’t sharpened. If anything, it’d softened. And he may have been mistaken, but he was pretty sure the corner of her lip was curling upward. “I’ve dealt with worse. Besides, it looks like your bird's covered in glitter, so. Karma or whatever the shit.”

Gar blinked at her before his smile broadened. He looked down at their hands, then back to her. “... I hope you’re not planning on letting me off easy ‘cuz of things.”

Ajaya tilted her head to one side, her expression tender. “Oh, sweet summer child.” As soon as it’d come, all the tenderness dissolved into a wicked, cheshire smile. Gar felt an almost electric charge prickle the hair up his arm, and energy began to glow behind her eyes. She winked. “Wouldn’t _dream_ of it.”

Before Gar could think to pull away, a flash of pink filled the air. He found himself thrown backward--only three feet or so--and he stumbled, digging his toes into the tile to stop his slide. Ellie shrieked and flapped her wings, digging her beak into the collar of his jacket as she grappled for purchase. A sharp _CLICK_ sounded behind him, and Gar turned his head to discover he’d thrown the crystal behind him. It bounced across the tile like a marble.

He threw a glance back at Ajaya. She hoisted herself onto the edge of the display, springing off and over it with such ease and grace that the other bits of crystal didn't so much as shiver. Gar craned his head as she soared over him in a single, fluid flip. She landed behind him dashed down the aisle, plucking the sphere mid-roll from the ground with just two fingers. By the time he was able to register everything that’d just transpired, she had dashed around the aisle corner with a cackle and a shriek of victory. Gar stared after her for a couple seconds before he slouched, letting out a huff.

At least he’d gotten two colored crystals.

* * *

By the time he located Wally, Bette, and Imogene again, they’d already gathered in the back of the store by the dressing rooms. A couple other customers were wandering in and out--mostly young adults or a teenager and a friend playing hooky--who were clearly excited at the idea of their local superheroes shopping around for costumes. One of the teens had already approached Kori for a picture, and Gar smirked as she held the phone high over their heads for what he could only assume was an Instagram or twitter selfie.

Wally dove into the nearest open changing room. Gar worked as a middle-man, taking anything Bette or Imogene forced into his arms back for Wally to put on. Bette had found a pair of pants that went along almost entirely with the top they’d previously bought, and Gar chucked them over the head of the door along with a set of charmed bracelets. Wally squeaked, laughing from the other side.

“-- _Hey!_ That’s my head!”

“Sorry!!” Gar called back, his face warming a little. “--Uh! Also, Imogene thinks you should go barefoot? We can’t find any shoes to go with the costume, but she thought the whole barefoot thing might go better with the aesthetic.”

“And our aesthetic’s gotta be on point,” Wally said.

Gar snorted. “Oh yeah, dude. Can’t have a weak aesthetic. Throws off the vibes. Bad ju--”

Something smacked him in the back of the head, and he leaped to the side with a yelp. Ellie scampered away from Wally’s shoe as it bounced across the ground.

“--Oh no!!!” Wally said, laughing again, “oh no! I didn’t think that’d actually hit you--I’m sorry!”

Gar blinked. Then, he also laughed, shooting the closed door a grin as he went to pick up the shoe. “It’s fine!! Heh! Guess you can call us even, now.”

“I didn’t hit Ellie, too, did I?”

“Nah, she’s good.”

Gar eyed the other changing rooms. He didn’t hear Vic, and there wasn’t a pair of metal feet poking out from any of the doors. Which meant one of the girls must be the model for the other team. Shoot. Now he couldn’t spy on them and see what they were planning… but, whatever it was, he knew it warranted a need for crystals. And considering both Rachel and Ajaya were on that side… what were the chances they were building a witch?

They probably should have gone with something other than a warlock, but it was too late now.

He straightened as Wally burst out of the changing room, and, after retrieving Ellie from where she’d found some sort of hanger clip, they rushed back into the store.

Bette sat Wally on a pile of boxes she and Imogene had stacked, and the two got to work on covering his face and hair with glitter. Gar stood by, grinning. The glitter was expertly arranged to mirror astrological signs and constellations. Bette fitted the side-cape around Wally's neck and shoulder. By the time Wally was decorated and armed with a simple glass cauldron, covered in cobwebs and billowing a thin stream of colorful glow stick smoke, and an expertly garnished wand (Imogene’s cosplay profession shining bright), Kori, Rachel and Ajaya emerged from the women’s dressing room. Gar huffed, smirking at himself. He should have guessed.

Ajaya dawned a pitch black dress, sleeveless and tight on top, loosening as it drifted past the hips. Kori had braided her hair and embellished it with ‘dead flowers,’ leaves, and cobweb. She was carrying a small wand, and Gar’s eyes snapped to the necklace on her collar. A sheer, silver chain, the quartz ‘crystal’ from before expertly molded into a piece at its center. No doubt the work of Vic and his torch-finger. Heh... cheaters.

“Oh, WOW!” Wally said, his eyes widening. He opened his arms at his sides. “You look great!”

Ajaya smiled, her expression smooth. “ _I know_. And you look…” Her smile curled into a smirk, but the affection in her eyes was clear as the crystal on her neck. “... endearing.”

“What the FUCK,” Imogene cried, throwing her arms in the air.

Vic and Kori started laughing, and Rachel stood in silence behind them. Her lips formed a ghost of a smile.

Gar stepped up to Wally and eased Ellie onto his shoulder, sliding back just enough to take on a pose similar to one Will Smith once struck. “Hereeeee he isssss…. Mister… Halloweeeeen.”

Wally bounced and landed with his feet squared. He threw out the hand holding the wand and, with it, a trail of glitter flew into the air.

"Go, magic, go!"

The two groups fell silent as the remaining glitter fluttered to the tile like flecks of golden snow. Ajaya stared at it for a moment, then she looked up with a broad simper. She raised her hands, flicked her fingers, and bright jolts of pink energy danced around her fingers and down the lengths of her arms. Her nail polish seemed to glow. She snapped once, and the store's lights flickered out for a few seconds before clicking back on. Again, silence fell between them as the other customers muttered about the 'weird occurrence'.

Wally dropped his arm, turning toward Gar, Bette, and Imogene.

“I, uh. I can't top that.”

Bette folded her arms and shrugged. “Seems fake, but okay.”

Imogene dropped her head back and groaned, and Gar smiled as Kori began to giggle and clap her hands. Vic and Ajaya exchanged a high-five. Their celebration was cut short when Ellie sprang off Wally's shoulder and began to roll through the glitter covered floor.

* * *

Vic and Wally made quick work cleaning up the mess while Rachel, Kori, and Bette went to the registers to pay for the items they’d collected. Gar had started to follow them, but Imogene hooked one arm around his elbow and dragged him down another aisle. She demanded his opinion on which of three crowns he thought she might alter with the least amount of extra effort and resources (because store-bought crowns didn’t meet her standards) to mirror Princess Peach's. He picked the second one, and she raced off to buy it without another word.

Gar moved out of the aisle with a chuckle, pocketing his hands in his jacket. Ellie plucked at one of his ears. He shook his head and reached up to gingerly swat her beak away when something across the store section caught his attention. He paused, glancing toward the others, then crossed over to the make-up packs hanging on the side of a large shelf.

There were several for vampires, zombies, ghosts, and ghouls… but his eyes fell on a bright, neon-green package off to the left. A kit for the Wicked Witch of the West. Just enough to make one’s hands, face and maybe arms an unsettling, unnatural green.

Gar eyed it. He subconsciously compared the three shades to that of his own skin. His hand found its way to his upper right arm, resting on the space where his scars were hidden by his sleeves.

He rarely cared about hiding them; it was just something that kind of happened. His Doom Patrol uniform had sleeves. He liked wearing hoodies and jackets even when it wasn’t that chilly outside, mostly because they made good pillows if you decided to take a spontaneous nap in or under a tree. The Portal costume he and Charlotte had been working on most of the year for Halloween? Part of it was a jumpsuit, but… usually, Chell wore it with the top tied around her waist, and under it, she wore a tank top. If his arms were going to be exposed most of Halloween, he didn’t want Wally to see the scars again. Wonder about them. Worry about them.

It felt… _stupid_. Thinking about it. But… he’d never considered using make-up to hide them. And, here it was. Green make-up. Right in front of--

“--I wouldn't waste your cash.”

Gar inhaled sharply, whirling around fast enough to throw Ellie off balance. Ajaya had stepped up beside him, dressed down to what she’d been wearing at the start of the day. She was frowning, one brow raised inquisitively. “If you’re looking for a pointed nose, they’re usually not included in the kit.”

“... --no, um. No, I don’t need one,” Gar said. He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve, nudging his thumb into it. “I was just looking.”

“Why?” Ajaya asked, squinting. “You don’t need it; you’re already green.”

Gar inwardly kicked himself. He could white lie his way out of explanations with most of his teammates, but… Ajaya? She was like Bette. She wasn’t about to buy your bullshit, even if you sold it dirt cheap.

Gar stared at her for a long moment. Then, he sighed, shaking his head as his eyes dipped to the floor. “Look. It… it’s stupid, but. I got… some stuff I don’t want anyone to see on Halloween, and. Um. I thought I could use it… --y’know? Like… hiding a zit? Most of that concealer stuff doesn't exactly work for me.”

Ajaya was quiet. When she finally huffed, the wave of relief that hit him was overwhelming.

“You’re going to want something better,” she said, tone blunt. “This cheap shit will get all over your clothes, hands--anything it touches--and it's hell to get off. I’ll see if I have anything better. I can probably match your complexion well enough.”

Gar straightened, his eyes widening as he looked up at her. “-- _What?_ … you… --you’d really--? … … thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She paused, chin tilting down and her brows lowering over the lids of her eyes. “... _don’t_.”

“Y-yeah,” Gar said, smiling and nodding his head. “These lips? Sealed. Ellie swallowed the key.”

Ellie croaked.

Ajaya stared at him a moment longer before she twirled on her heel and marched away, her still braided train of hair swaying behind her. Gar’s smile softened, and he pocketed his hands once more. He turned, walking back to where Vic and Wally were standing.

Vic turned as he approached, nodding with a faint smile before he made his way toward the front of the store. Gar stopped beside Wally, and he glanced up just as the red-head dusted off his hands and grinned. “Well! I’d call that a success.”

“Even though we lost?” Gar asked, smirking mildly. Wally shrugged.

“We had fun, yeah? Did we really lose?”

Gar chuckled. “Okay, okay. Can’t argue that.”

“Heh.”

They stood in silence, watching the group at the front of the store. Ellie ruffled her wings, wedging herself into the crook of Gar’s neck. She was warm, and her feathers were smooth and comforting. He was starting to feel tired again. Her contact made him drowsy, just as it had the night before.

“Hey.”

Gar’s ears twitched as Wally spoke up, and he looked at him. “Hm?”

“I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries by asking this, so please tell me if I am,” Wally started, and Gar barely repressed a wince. _Here we go_. “But… uh. ...I dunno, Gar. The atmosphere of the Tower was kinda off when I arrived this morning. Kori, Vic, Rachel--Ajaya… they all seemed fidgety and worried. I get the feeling this outing was a bit more than just Vic ‘giving in to the spook’. ...is… that a fair assumption?”

That pressure was back. Gar could lie--just pass it off as being tired, a bad night’s sleep. But at this point? It felt… it felt insulting.

Wally was smart, observant, and caring. He’d noticed, time and time again, that something was clouding Gar’s mind. Gar knew it was… it had to be frustrating. He remembered Rachel and everything that came with Trigon. All the times leading up to his arrival that she’d push them away, kick puzzle pieces under furniture, distract them--anything to keep them from asking more questions. Only. She was better at it. Him? Being caught in a lie was utterly terrifying. Sometimes that fear caused him to slip up, and the consequences were usually worse.

He knew Wally wouldn’t be mad. That he wouldn’t lash out or openly express disappointment. But it felt wrong. It felt way, way too wrong. After talking to Vic, crying his eyes raw… he was too tired to keep it up.

“Yeah, um. I-it is,” Gar said, his voice quiet even to him. “I… uh. I talked to my dad on the phone last night, and it didn’t go so well.”

“Oh.”

Silence. An almost knowing, understanding silence.

And Gar kicked himself for the thought. Steve was harsh and strict, but… he’d never _hit_ him. To even compare their situations felt slimy and twisted, and he immediately regretted it, even if it was just in his own head.

“I’m sorry,” Wally said. Gar straightened as a hand rested on his unoccupied shoulder, and he looked up to meet Wally’s gentle gaze. Wally frowned, but his eyes were warm. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”

“I kinda already did,” Gar said. He forced a small smile, shrugging his shoulder. “Um. Vic. Vic and I talked ‘bout it last night, and… --I-I feel better. --I do. Um. It just… kinda wore me out, I guess.”

Wally seemed to study him for a silent moment. Then, his frown eased into a smile. “I’m glad for that. --That you talked about it. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you to do.” He chuckled, giving Gar’s shoulder a light pat. “The whole super-tired thing is pretty normal. Sometimes you just… need a good talk to get rid of a buncha bad vibes, cleanse yourself a bit. Leaves you feeling empty after getting it all out, but a solid night of sleep or two will nurse that right up. No shame in it. ...I’m proud of you. ‘Kay?”

Gar inhaled, slow, through his nose, and he nodded his head. Wally gave him a warm grin, squeezed his shoulder with a tiny, affirming shake, and turned to walk toward the entrance. “C’mon! I think the plan was to grab pizza after this ‘game’ if you're up for it! I’m famished!”

Gar snorted and fell into step a pace or two behind him. His chest felt weightless and buzzing, jittering from his sternum, through his ribs, and down his spine. He could feel his face warming beyond the touch of the autumn sun as they moved out of the store. The energy vibrating in his bones was overwhelming; he wanted to run, shout, fly--anything to let it out, let it flow, let it be. He was relieved. He was so, so relieved. And grateful.

His hand slid out of one pocket, trailing down to the back pocket of his jeans and finding the piece of rose quartz. He pulled it out and let it roll into the center of his palm, touching his thumb delicately to its side. Gar closed his fingers around it, smiling to himself as he looked up.

Wally was a few feet ahead of him, now. He laughed, joining into some sort of exchange between Vic and Ajaya as he approached the T-Car. Their voices were faint and muffled, as though Gar was hearing them through glass, but their topic of conversation didn’t matter. He was unexplainably, undefinably happy. Grateful. ...and tired.

But the good sort of tired. The kind of exhaustion you feel after a full day of doing any and everything you love, with the people you love, and enjoying every moment unapologetically. Because no matter how small or mundane, those moments would stay with you.

Always.


End file.
